


Amidst the Ruins

by AchieveThis



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, F/M, Fluff, Rating will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 51,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AchieveThis/pseuds/AchieveThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It came out of nowhere. There was no warning. The world stopped turning and instead it began to shake.<br/>People were screaming. Concrete was breaking apart. Glass was shattering. </p>
<p>If this was how it ended, could you accept it?<br/>If this wasn't how it ended, what would be left?<br/>If you end up amidst the ruins, how will you go on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_**Sometimes life leads us to a dead end.  
** _

It started off with slight vibrations of the hotel room, barely even noticeable, so she attributed it to some party possibly going on a few floors underneath her, even though it left her wondering which weird kind of music those people were listening to to create such consistent quakes.  
But soon it had sent the lamp off the nightstand and it dawned on her that this was beyond what a subwoofer could do.  
  
_An earthquake_ , she idly wondered, _with a sensible magnitude in the South East of Washington?_  
It's not that she was an expert, but as far as she was informed, seismologic activity in this part of the state barely ever went past a magnitude of 2.  
  
After having picked up the lamp and setting it back where it belonged, she managed to ignore the rumbling of the ground for about thirty more seconds until she heard people screaming – not under the influence of the guilty pleasures the night life had to offer, but in fear.  
_What the fuck is going on?_  
She stood up from the bed to look out of the window and frowned at what she saw.  
People were running from the building across the street – another hotel of similar build – and she watched in horror as the bottom floor of the building gave out, the rest of the structure following within mere seconds.  
_What the f-_  
The shockwave of the collapse sent her tumbling to the ground.  
  
_**Sometimes life blocks off every escape route.**_  
  
_Fuck! Run!_  
  
Gathering herself seemed to take an eternity and when she finally regained her feet, something inside her had the thoughtfulness ( _or thoughtlessness?_ ) to make her slip on her shoes and grab her backpack that had gone mostly unpacked from when she had arrived earlier in the day.  
  
People were already flooding the hallway, storming to the stairs to get outside – like rats leaving a sinking ship.  
It was alarmingly obvious that the building wasn't going to hold out; some lamps were falling from the ceiling while others remained halfway mounted and thus dangled in the way dangerously, chunks of the floor didn't seem to support their weight in the usual solid way anymore (frankly she felt like she was walking on pillows at times) and – _bang!_ \- did the fucking elevator just _fall?_  
  
Her initial plan to be logical and calm about this went overboard in the middle of all the other panicked hotel guests, instinct taking over and telling her to just get out, no matter the costs.  
That was what _her instincts_ wanted though, unfortunately.  
  
As soon as the mass of humans had reached the foyer, most of them made a beeline for the revolving door, but something pulled relentlessly on her conscience and only two other men seemed to feel the same responsibility.  
  
_**Sometimes life will force us to act.**_  
  
The elderly receptionist of the hotel lay caught under one of the big pillars that had originally framed the spacious lobby.  
They weren't made of marble or any stone – lucky for the unlucky man – but the carved wood was still way too heavy for the old man to move off of his back alone.  
One of the men who had stopped alongside her gazed after the rest of the hotel guests with frustration.  
“Jesus Christ, people! You … fuck!“  
The other one seemed to assess their situation and quickly began to order his fellow _lunatics_ (as her brain, probably commanded by her instincts, pointed out) around with a quivering voice:  
“Uhm … I guess the two of us try and lift this thing and you get him out?” He very obviously tried to make it sound like a plan, but it still reached her ears as a question.  
  
She bit back any objections based on how he looked to be a lot weaker than her and the roles should probably be reversed, because there was simply no time left to argue, so she merely nodded and let the others get to work.  
While they tried to figure out how to position themselves best, she knelt next to the gray-haired man and gently took his hand in hers.  
“Don't worry, we'll get you out. Can … can you feel your legs?” She had to shout over the noise of the ongoing catastrophe and halfway through her question she knew what the answer was going to be, when the man's eyes began to water.  
  
_**Sometimes life can be an asshole.**_  
  
“No. No, I – I can't.”  
_Get the fuck out of here. Either you three get out of here or none of you will._  
Her conscience was persistent in its efforts to get her to leave and she was tempted to just listen to it, but _god dammit,_ wasn't that what animals did?  
If all humans resigned to going with what their instincts said and left everyone else behind, wasn't that abandoning everything that distinguished humans from animals?  
Actually, it wasn't.  
A lot of animals wouldn't leave members of their herd behind.  
But humans, Earth's only real monsters, did.  
She wasn't going to do that. Couldn't. Shouldn't.  
_You're gonna fucking die._  
  
“It's gonna be okay. It'll be fine.”, she tried to assure the clearly terrified man and ignored the thoughts crashing through her head; cries to leave, cries of why, cries of how would she possibly not end up dead?  
  
With a series of frightening cracks the men lifted the wood pillar barely high enough for her to pull the receptionist out from underneath it by his arms.  
The thunk the wood made when it rapidly connected with the tiled floor again was drowned out by the sounds of another nearby building collapsing.  
“You guys will have to carry him! He can't walk!”  
She felt her throat contract weirdly at the overstrain she was putting her voice through, but there was no helping it.  
  
**Sometimes life holds the strings and bends the puppet beyond what its joints were made for.  
**   
They exchanged a short look, but then grabbed the man by his upper arms and started carrying him towards the exit.  
The constant rumbling of the ground made every step they took uncertain and shaky, so she tried to just stop thinking about it, _concentrate on the door._  
This was going to end so badly.  
Why was there an earthquake of this magnitude?  
Nothing made sense.  
Nothing belonged.  
Nothing was right.  
The world was spinning … or was she?  
No, definitely the world because that tree didn't belong above her. Or inside of the hotel.  
Was that wall coming towards her?  
The crack in the ceiling didn't look good.  
_Oh shit!_  
  
**Sometimes life has a challenge for you.**


	2. Road's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!  
> Expect the next chapter next Sunday.

She wasn't quite sure if she was actually back from unconsciousness.  
There was nothing.  
Darkness. Silence.  
But there was pain.  
A dull throbbing of nerves, but where she wasn't able to locate.  
The memory of what had happened was as fresh as ever in her mind. Jumbled sequences of _earthquake, panic_ and _run_.  
_Yeah,_ the building collapsed. So if she was still alive, that meant she had to be … _fuck.  
  
Move!  
_ Her body jerked when the sudden realization hit her and her hands connected with something solid and massive right in front of her.  
_Or above?_ Yes, she was definitely lying somewhere. This thing was above her and it was dark as hell.  
That had to mean - _Oh fuck no!_  
  
_I'm buried. I'm trapped. I'm-_ No, she had to calm down.  
Her basic training tried to kick in; random snippets of sentences of what to do when and how coming to her in no particular order.  
_Calm down. You might have limited air._  
Now how was that supposed to calm her? She tried to concentrate on the actual meaning of the rule though and found her breath close to hyperventilation, throat burning with what may have been hours or may have been days without water.  
Her head was not obstructed from being turned; when she looked to her left, she saw nothing but impenetrable darkness and to her right – _oh please, please, please –_ there was a tiny hole in the 'ceiling', not letting much air nor light in, but at least she wouldn't suffocate.

  
_Great. One possible death down, like fifteen to go._

 

 _Stay positive!_ was another rule. Right.  
  
_Check your long-term memory._  
  
_Alright. My name is Sydney Porter. I'm 28 years old. My birthday is the 3 rd  of December._  
_My parents hate me. Well, fucking likewise._  
_I live in New York with my best friend Toby._  
_I like my life. I've been through shit, but hasn't everybody? I came out of it._  
_This can't be how it ends. Please don't let this be how it ends. Oh please-_  
  
Sydney was rambling and she knew it. But how could she not?  
The assholes who wrote those fucking 'How to act during an emergency' lists surely hadn't been lying underneath a damn _building_ before.  
  
_Check if you can still feel all of your limbs._  
At least this one was helpful.  
Left leg – check. Still there and slight room to move it; even to bend it a little.  
Right leg – still there but _fucking ow!_ with a dull pain throbbing in her knee when she tried to move it. Hopefully just bruised.  
Her arms were both in front of her, cradled to her chest, and in the meager amount of light she had, Sydney only found them covered in superficial scratches.  
  
That death was down then.  
Jesus Christ, the thing that would kill her was the damn thirst.  
She had no way of knowing for how long she'd been here, but it sure felt like days.  
And for all the time she'd been awake, one thing had remained.  
  
The silence.  
  
There was nothing.  
No sounds of nature, but much worse: No people. None of the rescue stuff you always see on tv.  
There was nothing.  
_I'm on my own. Great. What do I do? I can't risk trying to move this … whatever is in front of_ (“above”, a voice in her head chimed in) _me or it might fall down and squish me._  
Waiting it was then.  
Waiting.  
For what? For whom?  
_Nobody's fucking here!_  
A forlorn sob escaped her as soon as the thought had formed.  
She was all alone with apparently nobody coming to help her.  
Waiting for death?  
_Stay positive!_  
Right.

During the next minutes, hours, she slipped in and out of wakefulness.  
The small opening letting light in only helped her maintain a very limited sense of time, reduced to bright and dark.  
Right now it was dark.  
It had been dark the last three times she had woken up, but there could have been minutes or hours between each time.  
Maybe only seconds.  
The quality of the darkness didn't change and eventually Sydney found herself wondering if it really was the sky she was seeing or if maybe something had fallen on top of the hole, meaning she was now doomed to suffocate in this pile of hotel.  
  
Did it matter anymore?  
Without help she was going to die one way or another.  
Die of thirst, suffocate, starve, get mushed trying to get out by herself …  
_Pick your poison, honey.  
  
_ So if it didn't matter, she might as well die at least attempting to free herself, right?  
At least it sounded logical – not that she would trust her sense of logic much anymore.  
It was basically giving up on help coming, but seriously? She should have heard somebody by now.  
Either she would get out of here herself or die like a dog.  
  
_Here goes!_

 

She carefully moved her fingertips along the surface above her, trying to find the edges and possible cants.  
The chunk of concrete didn't seem to be stuck; it was resting atop other pieces of rubble, but it would still be heavy as hell.  
There was nearly no room to get any leverage, yet she'd have to make it as big as possible – she needed her legs.  
Throwing overboard anything she'd ever learned or heard, Sydney carefully pulled her left leg towards her body, mindful not to brush against anything accidentally.  
When she tried the same with her right leg, a searing pain shot up the limp, making her grit her teeth.  
Even though her right leg wasn't having any of it, there was no other way to attempt to get out.  
Eventually Sydney managed to get herself into a position that resembled a crouch, with her back turned to the concrete surface.  
  
_This is it.  
Either this is how I get out or it's how I die.  
Well, it's been a ride.  
I've seen places. People. Good people, shitty people.  
I'm 28. God, this has to work.  
  
_ With all the strength she was able to gather, Sydney pushed up against the concrete. It barely budged, no matter how hard she pushed, and only lifted a few inches before the stabbing pain in her right knee made her legs give out, sending the young woman tumbling forward, straight into the debris encasing her.  
  
Now her nose added to the notifications of pain her nerves were sending her brain and within mere seconds Sydney found warm blood dripping from it.  
  
_Fuck.  
  
_ With a sigh she pressed her index and middle finger to her lip firmly, trying to stop the nosebleed the way she had learned to.  
  
_Fuck.  
  
_ Limbo.  
Neither did she get out, nor did she die.  
Right now she would have preferred to be dead instead of spending more time in this fucking hole.  
  
_Fuck.  
  
_ Hot anger was suddenly coursing through Sydney's veins and she was tired of holding it in, so she screamed it out on the top of her lungs.  
_“Fuck!”  
_ Her voice cracked and her throat felt like it had been through a sandpaper treatment, but _Jesus,_ it did her good to get it out.  
What she hadn't expected though was an answer.  
  
“Uhm … hello?”, a clearly male voice shouted.  
Sydney's heart began to race. Was she starting to fucking imagine things?  
Could she even technically imagine a voice she didn't know?  
_God damn answer it, Freud!  
  
_ “Hello?”, she shouted back with uncertainty in her tone.  
Now she could hear it. Footsteps, uneven on the ruins of the hotel, coming towards her.  
If this was her imagination, her imagination was a cruel asshole.  
  
“Where are you? Are you stuck?”, the voice now asked, sounding lost.  
“Yeah, I-”, Sydney pushed herself towards the opening in the debris, ignoring her protesting knee. “There is this hole I can put my hand through.”, she explained, letting actions follow her words. “I don't know if that helps, but I don't have a lot of other reference points of where I am.”  
A nervous chuckle bubbled in her throat as she waited for a reply, which came almost instantly.  
  
“It does! I see you!”  
The exclamation nearly made her sob with relief, but then she heard a thud on the concrete right next to the hole and suddenly a large warm hand was wrapped around her tiny icy one.  
“ _Jesus_ , you're freezing!”, the stranger burst out with a perceptible shudder going through him, but mercifully his hand remained where it was.  
She was cold? Sydney hadn't noticed if she had to be honest, but it only made sense after however long she'd been here.  
  
“What's your name? Mine's Ryan.”, the man – _Ryan –_ asked gently, not having to raise his voice anymore now that they were close to each other.  
The smooth baritone, balancing on the edge of bass, was calming to her worn down nerves and Sydney wasn't quite believing Ryan was really there, not just a ferocious figment.  
“My name is Sydney. And no, the capitol of Australia is Canberra.”, she answered and felt him laugh at her gnarly remark.  
“Buried by a building but still sassy. Impressive. I think it's appropriate to say that even though it's nice to meet you, I wish we would've met under different circumstances. “  
Now it was her turn to laugh.  
“Most appropriate.”, she agreed.  
After a short pause she sheepishly added: “Uhm … do you think you can get me out of here?”  
  
Immediately Ryan let go of her hand to (hopefully) look for a way to free her and Sydney involuntarily whimpered at the loss of human contact.  
“Don't worry.” He softly brushed his fingers against hers once more. “I won't leave. I'm not like that.”  
A dark chuckle came from the trapped woman.  
“Well, I sure hope so because it seems like everyone else and their mother is.”  
Even though this statement was still true, Sydney was glad to note that her bitterness about the whole situation had been numbed by the kindness the stranger was showing her.  
  
Through the noise Ryan was causing above her by stepping around he asked her: “Are you okay by the way? I mean … apart from being down there.”  
Sydney shrugged and then realized that he – of course – couldn't see her.  
“My knee hurts. Not sure what it is, but it'll be better once I'm outta here. I banged my nose too – uhm, that's why you heard me yell “fuck” - so I might be a bit bloody. The thirst is the worst, honestly.”  
Noticing that she hadn't even thought of this before, she wiped her sleeve across the lower part of her face, hoping to get rid of most of the blood.  
She then heard Ryan come back to the hole and crouch next to it, followed by the sound of a zipper and him saying “Hold out your hands”.  
Her mind was too exhausted to ask questions, so she simply did what he wanted and promptly a soda can landed in her palms.  
There was almost no light, but the little that caught the shiny exterior of the can let her identify it.  
“Diet coke?”, she asked with a snort.  
“Well, you're thirsty and it's a drink. It's all I had with me, plus you could probably use the sugar.”, Ryan defended the soda but couldn't quite make his offended tone sound sincere.  
“You mean the artificial cancer-causing agent this has instead of sugar?”, Sydney retorted, yet greedily opened the can.  
The beverage was chilled from the night air and paired with the fact that it was carbonated it equaled heaven for her raw throat.  
“Oh God.” Sydney all but moaned. “I take it all back, diet coke. We're friends now.”  
  
A few minutes later Ryan came back to the opening.  
“So it looks like we have to move that huge chunk of concrete to your left to get you out.”, he mused and Sydney crawled back over to where she had woken up.  
“Yeah, I tried to lift it earlier but barely got it to move an inch.”, she admitted, then added: “Maybe we can do it together.”  
She heard him rise to go and stand above her.  
A certain uneasiness crept up her flesh at the possibility of the rubble caving in under his weight, but she pushed it aside.  
“It's worth a try. You got a grip on this thing?”, Ryan asked, prompting her to get back in the position she'd tried earlier.  
  
Her knee, she realized, was hurting even more after her fall, but _god dammit,_ this was probably her only chance to make it out of here.  
It was impossible to predict how much more Ryan would be willing to try to help her. He had promised he wouldn't leave her, still she wouldn't blame him if he did after whatever exactly had happened.  
  
“I think so.” Her answer was quiet, as if she thought that anything too loud could mess with her luck, yet Ryan caught it.  
“Okay then. On three. One. Two. _Three._ ”  
Sydney braced herself against the door to her dungeon.  
If it was the hope Ryan was giving her by his simple presence and willingness to help or just her desperation she didn't know, but somehow in her exhausted state she managed to put even more power behind her push.  
She wanted to cry with joy when unlike the last time the concrete actually moved and suddenly seemed to weigh only half as much, when in reality Ryan's help was making it easier.  
It felt like hours to her, but eventually a gap opened up and when she heard her rescuer press a rushed “Hurry!” through gritted teeth, she struggled through the space, ignoring the debris cutting into her hands and any other parts of her body coming too close to it, and eventually pulled herself out of what she had already deemed to be her grave.  
  
The chunk of wall slammed down just when she had made it out, then left behind the silence she had endured for the longest time, with the difference that it wasn't silence anymore.  
No, it was now laced with a noise that right in this second was heavenly to Sydney, as plain as it may have been.  
The slight pants of the man who had saved her.  
  
The young woman got to her feet and turned around and actually found herself looking up, the man standing a few inches taller than her.  
She would have made note of his broad shoulders, strong arms, sandy-brown wavy hair and _who wears such shoes?_ if she had had the time, but the only thing she noticed when she launched herself towards him were his surprised blue – it was dark outside but blue, definitely blue – eyes.  
  
Her arms wrapped around Ryan ( _so this was Ryan)_ in a tight embrace, which after a few seconds he returned awkwardly.  
  
_Free. Free. Free. Holy shit, I'm free._  
  
Sydney didn't realize she had been repeating a mantra of 'thank you's until his chuckled “You're welcome.” was registered in her brain.  
She was free. She was not going to die here. She was free – thanks to him.  
Her head moved from where she had pressed it against his shoulder and she beamed at him.  
“Fuck, I – thank you. Thank you so much. I thought I was gonna kick it in that fucking hole.”  
“You're welcome.”, Ryan repeated himself. “Somebody had to help you.”  
At that he took a sighing look around the nothingness surrounding the remains of the hotel and Sydney did the same while taking a step away from him.  
“Where is everyone?”  
The question had been burning in her mind for God knows how long and the only answer he could provide was a hopeless shake of his head.  
“I dunno. I haven't seen anyone, uhm … anyone alive since all of this started. It's creepy as hell – to say the least.”  
  
“Since it started ...”, she wondered out loud. “When did it start? I'm sorry, I must sound like I've lost it. And well, I did. I had no track of time down there.”  
He carefully gauged her as if he feared that what he was going to say could physically hurt her.  
“It happened on the 5 th. It's the early morning of the 8th.”  
Sydney closed her eyes for a moment, trying to process this new information.  
  
She had been in that hole for over two days.  
Ryan, who had obviously been able to move around, had not seen anyone (oh _God,_ did he say anyone _alive?_ ) in that period of time.  
  
She opened her eyes again.  
“So … what now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> x AT


	3. Where the light doesn't fall

They found themselves sitting on a ping-pong table in the middle of a playground, surrounded by the debris of what used to be a city.  
Their journey there was silent save for Sydney's gasps caused by the state most of the buildings were in, or whenever she saw a body part within the rubble a collapsed structure had left behind.  
At first she thought Ryan was indifferent to the death everywhere, but closer observation showed that he was just trying to not let it get to him – and failing, judging by the way his hands would start to shake now and then.  
With nowhere to go – and they couldn't go far anyway, as Sydney was exhausted and tired and Ryan himself wasn't doing much better – they eventually ended up here.  
  
They had wished for a better shelter, but there simply were none.  
The few, very few buildings that hadn't collapsed looked to be on the brink of doing so, so this would just have to do.  
  
Sydney learned that Ryan's full name was James Ryan Haywood but _“Ryan's fine, really”_ , he was from Georgia (“Thought I'd heard something Southern.”, Sydney interrupted him briefly.), yet currently lived in Austin, Texas, where he worked for what he described as _“an internet entertainment company … I guess?”_.  
At his inquiry she had to admit that no, she'd never heard of Rooster Teeth (“The fuck does that even mean?” - “Eh, I'll tell you another time.”) or Achievement Hunter before.  
Ryan supposed it was probably for the best, however.  
  
Then it was her turn to tell him about herself.  
“My name is Sydney Porter. No fancy middle names here.”  
Ryan sulked momentary at this, but couldn't keep up the act for long.  
“I live in New York, but I was born in California. Work. Well, I've been studying technology for six years now, mostly focused on computer science and robotics. The real dry stuff.”  
She chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed of her nerdy profession, but found her companion staring at her in awe.  
“Are you kidding me? That's awesome! I mean I've built the occasional Lego robot or devices to terrorize my co-workers with, but surely that's peanuts to you.”  
Sydney felt herself blush faced with his excitement. It wasn't often that people showed anything but polite fake enthusiasm in her work, but by the way Ryan's eyes had begun to sparkle when she had mentioned robotics she could tell he was being sincere.  
“Actually Lego makes quite good model robots. I often use those for testing purposes. I haven't been able to focus on robots much recently though. There's this technology guru who seems to think I'm some big talent with even more potential, so he's started to involve me in his projects, developing large-capacity computers, operating systems, some with forms of AI, you know – state of the art. Not really what I've been wanting to do, but it earns damn good money, so I ain't complaining. Plus it's an opportunity most students can only dream about; working with the great genius Pete Harris. Oooh yeaaah.”  
Her sarcasm wasn't lost on Ryan, which she noticed when he started grinning.  
“Don't like him?”  
“He's an ass.”  
“Yikes.”  
Sydney did a double take hearing that.  
“Yikes? Who even says that? You sure you're supposed to be in this decade?”  
Ryan crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and once again pulled a huffy face, but eventually they both started laughing.  
  
It was an eery sound in the deathful stillness around them, Sydney noticed.  
Nothing was able to paint even the slightest streak of color into the gray, ruined fresco this place was and somehow it seemed inappropriate to be happy here.  
Ryan apparently felt it too, because his laughter quickly stopped when he followed her gaze.  
  
“What do we do?”  
Her despair had been numbed by their easy conversation, but in this second it came back and hit her full force.  
The question also brought it to Ryan and he flinched visibly.  
“Honestly? I'm too tired to think. I've been up and walking since very early yesterday and I think we're already close to sunrise.”  
  
His eyes inspected the sky, which indeed possessed a soft gradient from orange over blue to black already.

Single shadows were returning to the world which when they had reached the playground had still been a solid block of darkness.  
She could tell where he was coming from.  
Not that she had done much during the last two days, but the deprivation of nutrients and fluid had left its marks and her knee – other than she had assumed – had only gotten slightly better by getting out of the hole.  
  
“Yeah, we should probably sleep and decide how to go on after that. So … uh ...”  
Her voice trailed off into hesitancy. It wasn't the most usual thing to just lie down on a ping-pong table, but they had nowhere else to go.  
Ryan grunted and scooted forward to the net, detached it from its holders and tossed it aside, then stretched out on the table.  
Sydney picked up her backpack from where they had dropped them on the ground and pulled the cagoule she knew she had taken with her out.  
“Uhm, it's gonna be cold as fuck. It's not much, but I have an extra jacket we could share as a blanket if you wanna?”, she offered quietly, holding the garment up for his inspection.  
He agreed with an “Oh, that'd be great.”, so they ended up with their backs pressed together for warmth, the jacket slung tightly around their bodies.  
  
Regardless of how well they had been getting along, it was an utterly awkward situation.  
Sydney had briefly thought about cuddling and she believed she had seen the same consideration play on his features, but they'd both quickly dismissed it, the sheer thought seeming improper.  
Her mind was trying to ease the discomfiture from her system by telling her over and over that this was more effective anyway. As they were each facing another way, they were much more observant of their surroundings, which aided in calming her instincts about sleeping out in the open.  
  
She curled in on herself as much as possible while keeping her back against Ryan's, but Washington's October nights weren't exactly like the ones in California and Sydney knew that she'd be lucky to catch even only a few hours of sleep like this.  
Her weariness made her eyelids droop fairly soon though and she passed out very shortly after her rescuer's breathing became even.  
  
  
She was proven right, but it wasn't the coldness that cut her sleep short.  
Something tugged her out of it anything but gently and she couldn't tell what it was, only that it was urgent and she needed to wake up _right the fuck now.  
_ Sydney sat up abruptly and found herself entirely disoriented.  
Her vision was swimming … or no, it was shaking. _Shaking?_  
This wasn't her eyes' fault, she realized with horror. Once again, the god damn planet was to blame.  
_An aftershock …_  
  
Shit.  
She went to get off of the tennis table and only then remembered the man who was with her and still hadn't woken up.  
“Ryan!” Just as she touched his shoulder in order to shake it, he started from his sleep.  
“Huh? Whaissit?”  
His slurred question didn't need an answer anymore when he looked around and immediately knew what had her in a panic.  
Both now scrambled to get to the ground, grabbed their bags and Sydney's jacket and stumbled away from the table.  
  
They huddled together on the sand covering the playground and for a moment she calmed a little, knowing that they were out in the open, there wasn't anything dangerous nearby; no buildings, no power poles, especially no _hotels_ .  
It was simple, they'd just have to wait it out and everything would be fine.  
This was only an aftershock after all. Nothing that would kill them, at least out here.  
  
Suddenly a series of deafening cracks, creaks and bangs filled the air and _o-kay, the street over there was definitely breaking open.  
_ Ere Sydney had only the slightest chance to react, Ryan had already clutched her wrist and pulled her to her feet.  
“ _Run!_ ”  
His grip was one of iron and she didn't struggle against it, wouldn't have dreamed of it, as he pulled her off the play yard and towards the street with the least intact houses.  
He looked more like a lifter than a runner, but _man,_ Haywood could charge if he had to.  
Not that she couldn't – well, normally – but her knee was sending a stabbing pain through her entire body with each step, making her limp and she was sure she would have fallen if it wasn't for Ryan's pull keeping her in step with him.  
  
Her lungs were burning and her body clearly hadn't had enough rest and she just wanted it all to stop, stop, _stop.  
Please, I can't keep running._  
The noises weren't quietening however and with sudden horror she realized that Ryan had made a mistake.  
Even though choosing the street with the least danger of something falling on them would normally have been a smart decision, they were now running in the direction the crack had been moving, so likely it was _following_ them.  
“ _Ryan,_ we have to move away from the crack, not with it!”  
Her objection was enough to slow him down and before he could begin to question anything, she pulled him into a side street leading away from the forming cleft in a 90-degrees-angle.  
He understood and quickly took the lead again, maneuvering them through the debris of the two-story buildings which had gone down on this street.  
Finally they seemed to leave the rift behind, but the rumbling of the ground wasn't stopping and they were likely to just be running into the next danger zone.  
  
This was bad, this was so bad.  
She didn't want to have survived the hotel to die during the damn aftershock of the earthquake.  
That just wasn't fair.  
None of this was fair.  
They were in Washington, for Christ's sake.  
_Earthquakes in Washington don't kill people._  
And yet so many here were dead.  
  
Just when she thought that maybe this was it, maybe they were going to get out of here, Ryan stopped dead in his tracks, causing her to run into his back.  
“God dammit, Ryan!”, she cursed loudly. _“What?”_  
He wordlessly pointed in front of them and her brain wanted to release all the swears she'd ever heard at once.  
Just as the street that now lay behind them, the asphalt in front of them was also drifting apart, trapping them between two damn _rifts in the ground._  
There was no time to discuss it, no time to do anything, so Ryan dragged her into another alley, now running parallel to the cracks.  
If only one of them decided to sheer off, they would be in a tight spot, the only escape route then being behind them.  
  
For the first time Mother Nature or whoever was responsible for this (Sydney swore to God ( _better not have been him_ ) they'd hear from her lawyer) didn't screw them over.  
As they reached the border of the outskirts, the earth _finally_ calmed down.  
Ryan didn't even slow down though and she understood why.  
Neither of them wanted anything to do with this city anymore.  
They needed to get away as far as possible from this hellhole and as far as Sydney was concerned into a bed, to then wake up at home in New York, discovering how all of this had been a damn bad dream and _dude, fuck Mexican food – it always gives me nightmares_ and she and Ryan would just live their separate lives again.  
  
But no, they were stuck together.  
_Literally,_ Sydney was reminded when they had at last left the town behind them and the dishwater blond just let himself fall onto a patch of grass with a groan, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, and automatically tugged her down with him.  
It hurt and she wanted to complain, wanted to kick him so badly, if only to vent some anger about the whole situation, but lying down eventually felt so good that she dropped her anger and concentrated on the adrenaline sweeping away from her.  
  
Their labored pants were interrupted by Ryan's grunted: “So that was fucking close. I hate these things.”  
She was about to bring out some agreeing noise when- _Things? Plural?  
_ “Hold on. Thing _s_ ? As in there have been more?”  
He raised an eyebrow at her.  
“Yeah, this was the third aftershock. But definitely the first damn time I saw the ground _open_.”  
  
The innocent verb sounded like something foreign and other-worldly the way he said it and it made a cold shiver run down her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of two consecutive chapters that I didn't really want to divide, but couldn't keep together either, still I tried to not end on too much of a cliffhanger here.  
> There are enough of those to come. 
> 
> x AT


	4. A long way home

„No, no, no. That's totally wrong. That's not at _all_ how the East coast looks like.“  
Ryan stared at her incredulously.  
“Are you kidding me right now?”  
“No! You drew New York Bay and the coast of North Carolina completely wrong!”  
“You do it then! It's not like we actually need it.”  
With a huff Sydney snatched the tree branch from his hands.  
They had spent at least an hour now sketching a map of the US into a pit of wet sand they'd found and more than half of the time they had argued about various things; where the state lines were exactly, if Phoenix was really on the same longitude as Salt Lake City and _wait, I only count 46 states, which did we miss?_  
The bigger cities of the Western states had all been marked with tiny pebbles and though they didn't even need a map of the East, Sydney insisted for it to be correct.  
Maybe it was just to test his nerves – she wasn't sure about it.  
Soon she had fixed his errors and joined him on the left side of the map.  
  
Ryan placed a strikingly white pebble each where they presumed they were and where he was able to tell Austin was located.  
Then he silently held his hand out for the tree branch and once she had given it to him he drew a straight line between the stones.  
“So the direct route would lead us out of Washington, through Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico before we reach Texas.”, he told her unnecessarily, as she could see the line crossing the states they had labeled with their abbreviations, yet she nodded.  
“We're avoiding any bad deserts and it's October already, thankfully. I think we'll rather have to worry about cold than hot temperatures. Depending on how long it takes us, it will be damn cold at night the closer November gets.”  
She raised an eyebrow at him.  
“How long do you think it'll take?”  
He gave a very obviously clueless shrug.  
“I'm sure we can make between 20 to 40 miles a day, depending on the terrain and the climate, but half of the straight route is basically through the Rockies. Either we take a huge detour through Nevada and Arizona”, he pointed out the mentioned states as he named them, “or we settle for being slower. One way or the other – this is at least 1900 miles we're looking at here. So that makes … _oh man,_ two months, if we can manage 30 miles a day.”  
  
Sydney groaned in frustration.  
She had thought nearly the same thing, but had been afraid to voice it, in hopes he was maybe thinking differently and she was just losing her logical thinking or the ability to calculate.  
Apparently she wasn't.  
If they didn't find anybody, they'd be in for a two-month-walk across half the country.  
And if she had to be honest, 30 miles a day sounded rather unrealistic to her, considering the landscape of Washington and the other states parting them from Texas.  
Neither her nor Ryan were in peak form for this and maybe 30 miles were realistic now, but as the days passed they would become slower.  
  
He didn't speak up again and when she was released from her thoughts, she found his gaze wandering down the West coast. Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, then drifting up again to rest on Portland.  
“What is it?”, she asked softly, maybe more softly than she meant to.  
“We should head for the coast, shouldn't we?” His voice was filled with guilt towards nobody in particular and doubt. “That's what they always say. 'Head to the coast, head to the coast.'.”  
“Well clearly you don't want to. I mean … it's true, if this is really as bad as it looks – and something's pretty fucking wrong, 'cause otherwise somebody would _be here_ -, we're more likely to find people at the coast, but we won't drag our asses the whole way to Texas without seeing _anybody_ , will we?” He was now studying her face, searching for what looked like approval for the thing his instincts were telling him was stupid. “We _could_ head to the coast, but if you ask me, we won't have to walk any further than a few cities south to find people and then we can both go home. And even _if_ it takes longer than that, at least we're walking in the right direction. Eventually we'll find _some_ one.”  
  
A half-hearted smile found its way onto his features and she found herself smiling too.  
Her words had been twisting her exact thoughts a little, but they seemed to soothe his nerves somewhat and no matter how long their journey would be, they had to keep it together, keep sane.  
  
_“The human mind is an enigma, Porter. And if it opens its bottomless vaults, it will pull you in and keep you in there until nothing's left but a pour soul whimpering for death.”_  
  
She grabbed her backpack, opened the front pocket and pulled out a notebook and a pen, beginning to write down the names of the cities belonging to the pebbles the line in the sand crossed, so they'd know which cities they'd have to go through to stay on course.  
Ryan watched over her shoulder, giving his input on which cities they should mark as important, in case they would have to take a circuit, and adding the names of a few smaller cities in the northwest of Texas, as there weren't any really big ones on their route except for Amarillo and Lubbock.  
At the end, she wrote down 'AUSTIN' in capitals and underlined it twice, causing Ryan to nod determinedly.  
In an unspoken agreement they both got up, grabbed their bags and turned to start their travel, but before they could entirely leave the map in the sand behind, Ryan looked back and gave Sydney a pointed glance and a mock shove.  
“Now what in hell did you need the East coast for?”

 

 

Not even ten minutes into their walk Sydney knew this was going to be hell.  
It would take them ages to get to Austin and already they were running out of things to talk about.  
And what were they even supposed to say?  
“Hey, nice weather today. No earthquakes.”  
Walking was going to suck, too.  
Ryan had mentioned that most of his day revolved around a desk, much like hers, so even though they were doing fine _now_ , it was going to wear them down pretty soon.  
  
Just like it always did, her brain switched to auto pilot and without her consent her mouth suddenly uttered:  
“What about a road trip song?”  
He almost choked on his surprised chuckle and Sydney immediately cursed the randomness of her thoughts.  
“Which were you thinking about?”, Ryan wanted to know to her astonishment. “Kumbaya?”  
If this wasn't a good chance to test his humor, she didn't know what would be, so she grinned and shrugged.  
“Yeah.”  
“Well you start then.”  
His gaze was defying her, challenging her to just _dare start singing that damn song right now_ .  
And she had never been one to turn down something like that, so she began to sing with reckless abandon.  
  
_“_ _Kum ba yah, my Lord, Kum ba yah,_   
_Kum ba yah, my Lord, Kum ba yah_   
_Kum ba yah, my Lord, Kum ba yah_   
_Oh Lord, Kum ba yah.“_   
  
At first he just shook his head with a fond smile and pretended to not be with her to the deserted nature around them, the left-behind farmlands, the desolate asphalt they were walking on, the lonesome blue sky, which was why she was more than a little taken aback when with the second stanza he suddenly joined her, singing a full octave below her fair alto.  
Once they had gone through all the official verses their combined memories dug up, they started making some more up, going from “Walking sucks, my Lord, walking sucks.” over “I want some fries, my Lord, I want some fries.” to “I'm pretty sure we walked by this dead bush already; are we going in circles, my Lord, I'm pretty-” “ _Sydney, no!_ ”  
  
As both now saw this song as completely and utterly stale, they had to conquer new frontiers, which they found in Ryan starting to sing The Proclaimers' '500 Miles' in a ridiculous Scottish accent.  
Sydney tried to join in, she really did, but all the way through the first refrain her attempts were sabotaged by his willful exaggeration of the Scottish pronunciation causing her to burst into laughter.  
The blond barely even smirked and continued his rendering and eventually she managed to sing along when they came to the bridge of the song.  
  
Following The Proclaimers was Billy Joel with 'For the Longest Time' and _sure,_ they didn't know the exact lyrics _all_ the time, but the replacement lyrics they came up with were just as good.  
They didn't discuss the songs they would sing, either of them would just start one and the other would join in.  
  
So it was Sydney who began singing Elton John's 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight' and Ryan joined her, his voice adding depth to the melody.  
The song felt out of place floating over the barren grasslands the road was leading them through.  
There was no love here and it wasn't night.  
There was nothing to calm them, it wasn't “ _enough that they got this far_ ”, not even remotely enough.   
In the worst case they had the travel of their lives in front of them.  
And yet they were singing of a setting of peace and love they wouldn't find out here.  
  
When they belted out “It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best”, she saw Ryan smiling at it, as if it reminded him of something.  
She was curious, as it was her nature, but it looked to be something beyond the part of his backstory she knew, so she wasn't going to dig.  
  
  
At noon – or at least they assumed it was noon by how high up in the sky the sun was – they took a rest under an overpass and had lunch consisting of what little they still had in their backpacks: another two cans of diet coke Ryan produced with a goofy grin and a didactic “You said you'd be nice to them now”, a package of graham crackers (“Huh, didn't know these were still in here.” “Yuck.”, Sydney muttered.), a Butterfinger and two packs of Oreos.  
They left half of the crackers and three Mars bars Sydney had also found in her bag alone however, as they weren't exactly sure how far the next city was.  
Ryan assumed it to be Plymouth down by the Columbia River, which they should be able to reach by sunset if they hurried, but if they didn't, they were going to need to be careful with their scarce resources.  
  
Finally getting her weight off her knee was a huge relief to Sydney and when she rolled the leg of her cargo pants up, she was greeted with a dark bruise just under her kneecap.  
A sympathetic hiss came from Ryan when he saw the injury.  
“Damn. How's walking with that? Sorry I didn't ask earlier.”  
“It's not that bad once I manage to distract myself, to be honest. Singing helped. But I can imagine walking day after day will not exactly make it better.”  
Her lost look met his and it became apparent that they weren't gonna be able to do anything about it. And Sydney wouldn't let it hinder her.  
  
She wanted to get away from here, wanted to get home, and she would get there, no matter if she had to walk the whole way back to New York.  
If they really had to make it all the way down to Austin, she would go there with Ryan, make sure his friends were okay and then take off.  
It wasn't much she had to care for back home, but that made her care for every individual person even more.  
Toby had been with her since they had been 16, talking his mother into letting her live with them and eventually his mother had fought to keep her, receiving the custody for her and accepting her into the family like a daughter.  
If she had a home, it was in New York.  
  
_“Home isn't a place, Sydney. Home is with the people you meet and the stories which bind you to them.”_  
  


 


	5. The lull without a storm

When they reached Plymouth, the sun had long disappeared behind the horizon.  
It had gotten chilly again and the clothes they were wearing were barely enough to keep them warm; both in normal pants, Sydney sporting a simple black tank top and a dark blue hoodie she had zipped up to her neck over an hour ago, Ryan a purple shirt reading 'My life is a progress bar. Please wait …', which Sydney had almost commented on with a shitty joke several times but thought the better of it the last second, and a light, brown jacket.  
  
They were exhausted – last night's short sleep seemed miles away and, well, technically it was, and it had definitely been hours since lunch and more importantly their small drink.  
Sydney's knee had started to bother her a lot more than she thought it would and by the time the first houses came in sight, she was full-on limping, Ryan giving her concerned side-glances every so often.  
Why he chose to leave the issue unaddressed she wasn't sure, but her pride was grateful for it nonetheless, as the injury was making her feel useless enough as it was already.  
  
The structures along the Columbia hardly looked any better than those in the last city.  
Sydney and Ryan considered trying to get into some, but every time decided against it, only once coming as far as kicking in a door (“Where the hell did you learn _that?_ ” “You better watch your back, Haywood.”), only to dash away from the house when that had obviously been the last straw and it gave in to gravity and the damage the earthquakes had dealt to it.   
One thing hovered above their heads like vultures above a dying man – the unspoken question of “Where is everybody?”.  
Plymouth was completely deserted. They didn't come across a single soul, which (even though it slightly eased Sydney's conscience about kicking doors in) terrified them tremendously, showing in the way both of them let hopeful gazes wander up and down the roads now and then.

 

Just when they were about to give up and spend another night in a random place, they came across a sturdy looking brick house.  
Apart from two of the shutters on the front windows having fallen off, it looked to be in a good enough shape to not just quit on them, so Sydney walked down the path separating its front yard, Ryan tracking close behind her.  
“Doesn't look like it has a deadbolt.”, he mused after observing the door knob. “You got a credit card or something for me?”  
  
Sydney raised an eyebrow at him, yet took off her backpack to dig out her wallet and handed him the only card she trusted him with right now; a Macy's gift card Pete had gotten her as a celebration gift for the completion of their latest project together.  
It had had a generous amount of money on it, but she had been quick to spend it on several pairs of sneakers and boots – the only items Macy's offered she actually cared enough about to leave the house for – and then forget about it.  
  
Ryan took the card from her outstretched hand, went to stand with his shoulder pressed against the wooden door and swiped the piece of plastic along the tight door crack, apparently finding the right place, suddenly pushing the card forward with a jerk and making a triumphant sound when an unmistakable click was audible and he opened the door.  
  
Sydney couldn't help but smirk at his smug grin and crossed her arms over her chest.  
“Well, I'll be damned, Haywood. Looks like I got myself quite the picklock to travel with.”  
Her remark had the tips of the man's ears flushing bright red in an endearing way.  
“Hey! Everyone knows that trick! It's like … common knowledge.”, he defended himself and tugged the card back into the wallet which was still open in her hand.  
“Common knowledge, yeah yeah. People have heard of this, but it's a whole 'nother pair of shoes to walk up to a door and just do it like it's the first thing you do when you get out of bed. Now I know how y'all spend your days down in Georgia.”  
Sydney walked into the house first like he gestured for her to do and pretended she didn't hear his mumbled “Says the woman who kicks doors in with a hurt knee” as she passed by him.  
  
The inside of the house showed more signs of the earthquakes.  
Things had been knocked off tables and down from shelves and picture frames had fallen off the walls, glass scattering the hardwood floor, making Sydney be thankful for the thick soles of her boots.  
Eventually she picked up two of the pictures carefully, both showing a young couple, the man and the woman probably being in the age range of her and Ryan.  
“Do you think they made it?”, she asked in a husky voice when she felt he was watching by his breath hitting her neck.  
She didn't know the couple and she'd probably never meet them, not even after they had just broken into their house, but somehow she still felt connected to them, maybe only because their home was the only one that seemed capable of protecting them from the outside world right now.  
“Yeah. I mean, they don't lie buried under their own roof, so they have a better chance than … well, everyone else we've seen.”, Ryan answered her, his tone heavy.  
With a sigh Sydney put the pictures on one of the shelves in the hallway.  
Somehow it felt wrong to put them back on the floor and it was a small thank you to the owners to at least clean this up.  
  
They started sifting through the kitchen, giving the fridge a wide berth since the power had been out for three days now and they definitely didn't want to deal with that kind of smell.  
The cabinets were stocked plentifully enough and soon they were sitting facing each other at the kitchen table, both gulping down water bottles they had found.  
It had shortly been addressed that _yes, they actually needed to drink carefully after being dehydrated,_  but they were both too thirsty to care too much, each finishing a bottle in a matter of minutes.  
Tiredness was stronger than their hunger, so they confined themselves to sharing an apple and a banana from the still fresh-looking fruit bowl on the counter and called it quits for the night.  
  
After searching the rest of the house, they discovered that it only had one bedroom and Sydney found herself silently thanking the deities for it, as that meant the couple didn't have any children.  
Why those would have mattered with the population of the whole city missing she couldn't say. _They just did.  
_ She got torn out of her thoughts when Ryan grabbed one of the pillows and a blanket from the conjugal bed and started heading out of the room again.  
“Uhm … and what do you think you're doing?”  
He frowned when she put herself in his way, once more crossing her arms across her chest – an action he'd seen her perform a lot since he'd found her.  
“Going to sleep on the couch?”, he offered tentatively, very obviously not satisfying his companion at all.  
“Yeah, no way.” Sydney shook her black-haired head, placed her hands in the middle of his chest and pushed him back towards the bed. “You're not doing the manliness thing by letting me have the bed.”  
“It's fine, rea-”  
“Of course it's _fine_ , Ryan. 'Cause you're a gentleman. I get it. But I'm not having it. We're both exhausted and can use a good sleep.”  
Really? This was how she wanted to play this? Act out the tough one, who didn't need handouts?  
  
Sydney eyed the bedding in his hands sharply and then made a head gesture towards the bed.  
“Put it down.”  
Ryan felt his jaw clench involuntarily at his urge to fight her about this and she clearly saw the movement, grinning a little.  
“Put it _down,_ Ryan.”  
His hands tightened in the soft down comforter ( _Christ, it would be_ heaven _to sleep with this_ ).  
“I swear to God, I will hit you if you don't put it down right now, Haywood. Don't make me punch you.”  
That got him to bark out a laugh and he finally followed through with her request, placing the bedclothes back on the rack before lifting his hands in surrender.  
“Alright, alright, just don't hurt me. I've got diet coke and video games to live for.”  
She nudged him with her elbow playfully and then groaned.  
“Oh fuck. A picklock and a nerd. I'm royally boned.”  
Ryan's pillow hit her square in the face.  
  
  
  
Half an hour later they were still awake, lying cocooned in the duvets in deep appreciation of the warmth they offered, and tried hopelessly to find sleep with the adrenaline of the day being in the forefront of their minds.  
They had already gone over the route they were planning to cover the next day; crossing the Columbia and therefore entering Oregon, then proceeding down the Interstate 84, which would take them almost all the way to Salt Lake City in Utah.  
At least Ryan assumed it would, though he did concede that he wasn't too good with the roads in the west.  
( _A lot better than me., Sydney thought sheepishly, as her own knowledge of any roads was limited to the rough course of Route 66.)  
_  
Now silence once more had settled between them, but for a change it wasn't an uncomfortable one.  
For the first time into their travel they were both acceptably fed and supplied with fluid, they had the beginnings of a plan, the pain in Sydney's knee had numbed down to a light throbbing again, sleep hanging in the air, and even though it was still out of reach, the promise of rest, an hopefully uninterrupted one, had them at ease.  
  
“You know, you're decent company, Ryan.”  
The statement surprised her as once more her brain had apparently rubber-stamped it.  
“That a compliment?”, he grunted, his voice already low with how long his throat had been relaxed.  
His blue eyes and his light, wavy hair were all that was peaking out over the edge of the comforter and Sydney smiled at the sight – hidden to him, as she was wrapped up in the very same way.  
“You should take it as one.”, she simply advised him. “I don't get along great with most people, especially men, and I'd rather do this with than without you. By my standards I'm conferring a decoration on you with this.”  
“'m honored, then. You're quite alright yourself. You know, for a _girl._ ” The last word was spoken with the innocent disgust young boys would usually put into it and Sydney lazily kicked him for his taunt, getting a jab right back.  
“Hey, no violence. I'm telling Mom!”, she complained, making him chuckle in a way that had the whole mattress shaking softly.  
  
“You sound like Ray.”  
“Ray?”  
Her gentle question suddenly made his whole body tense, his eyes widen, and he looked caught more than anything else.  
“I- uhm … I'll tell you another time. It's kind of a long story.”  
She nodded in understanding, before snaking her hand under his duvet to gingerly take one of his hands into hers.  
“One of your friends?”  
A sad smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards ever so slightly, showing only in his cheeks dimpling a little.  
“Yeah.”  
He accepted the comfort she offered with her touch as the simple gesture of compassion it was and their hands remained together even when they wished each other a good night and Sydney fell asleep over the thought of _Man, either my hand is legit tiny or his is god damn huge_ soon after.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I missed last week's update, but I was down with a cold that didn't let me breathe through my nose when sitting up, so writing was just hell. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this, though. See you next Sunday!
> 
> x AT


	6. Lonesome Rider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, I missed my update again, didn't I?  
> Dang it!  
> But as I'm home til Thursday, I'll post an extra chapter soon to make up for it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> x AT

“Umph.”  
Once more Sydney's sleep met a sudden end, this time thankfully not due to an earthquake but her body hitting the floor.  
Groggily she sat up and huffed out an amused laugh at the sight of Ryan sprawled over the bed on his stomach, the thud she'd made when falling out of it obviously not having disturbed him the tiniest bit.  
She briefly considered getting back into bed, but dismissed the thought quickly, deeming having to move what she assumed to be about 190 pounds of Georgian not worth it.  
  
Again going over the stuff in the kitchen, she came up with a package of toast and jars of marmalade and peanut butter.  
She wasn't really one for sandwiches in the morning, but as her alternatives consisted of exquisite canned kidney beans, pineapple slices, peas and carrots, some sort of fish she pushed all the way to the back of the shelf ( _“If Ryan eats this, I'm leaving him behind. Canned fish is where travel-buddyship ends!”_ ) and a noodle soup – all cold of course -, sandwiches it was.  
One thing she really missed was her morning coffee, but without power she wouldn't get any, so Sydney turned to one of the Dr Pepper cans the resident couple stored under their sink for caffeine solace.  
  
She plumped down on one of the kitchen chairs and kicked her feet up on the one next to her, beginning to nibble on one of the sandwiches absentmindedly.  
Staring out at the ghost city through the window, she suddenly felt awfully alone, the only other living soul she'd come across not at her side for the first time.  
Her mind had always made out an apocalypse to be many things, but 'lonely' had not really been on the list.  
Even though Sydney had never been a philanthrope, in this moment she missed how in New York it was literally impossible to be by one's self at any given time of day.  
She missed the lights of billboards always kind of keeping it daytime, even in the darkest night.  
Hell, she missed rude taxi drivers.  
Things were really going down.  
  
Some time later – she hadn't really kept track, but it was after she had finished her breakfast – Ryan came trotting into the kitchen with a light case of bed head and Sydney realized in mild shock that she hadn't bothered to check her hair, which probably looked like a mess with how much she'd been rolling around in bed.  
“Morning.”, Ryan mumbled and she returned the greeting, noting that _boy, sleep definitely did good things for his voice_ , and pushed the toast package along with the two jars towards him.  
“Unless you want the pickled fish on the shelf.”  
He pulled a disgusted face as he took a plate and a knife from the cabinets.  
“Hell no! I'll go with the elementary school lunch.”  
Sydney smiled to herself.  
“Good. So you're staying.”  
“Huh?”  
“Never mind.”  
  
Later Sydney had the sudden brainwave to search around for a possible key to the Ford Explorer parked in the garage and Ryan eagerly helped her (“If we're breaking in and eating all their peanut butter, we might as well _borrow_ their car.”), but they came up with nothing.  
Another half hour was spent on Sydney checking the cars in the neighborhood for a possibility to hot-wire them.  
(“E-excuse me?!?”, Ryan stammered.)  
None of them, she explained to him, were old enough for it to work though, so they returned to the house, Sydney accepting his offended “Okay, maybe I'm a picklock, but you god damn hot-wire cars!” with a grin.  
  
Once they were about to cross the front yard again, Ryan frowned and stopped for a moment, then made his way to the back of the house, his black-haired companion following cluelessly.  
When she rounded the corner of the building, she found him standing next to two bicycles with a triumphant gaze, but then it drifted down to her knee, causing him to smack his forehead.  
“Aw, I'm an idiot. Sorry, bad idea.”  
“Except it isn't.”  
Immediately Ryan's frown gained intensity and Sydney knew he'd object before he even opened his mouth to speak.  
“You can't possibly ride a bike as far as we need to go with that knee.”  
Stubborn as ever she walked over to him, kicked up one of the bikes' stand and started pushing it to the front of the house.  
“No. What I can't possibly do is keep us from covering thrice the distance we'd cover on foot.”, she insisted and sighed internally when he followed her without a bike.  
Of _course_ she had to come across a caring man to be her apocalypse buddy.  
Of fucking course …  
  
Ryan bypassed her quickly and slammed his hands down on the handlebars of the bike, effectively stopping Sydney from going anywhere.  
She was quite impressed by the strength behind his footing, not giving even an inch when she tried to push him away obstinately.  
_He works at a desk every day? I call bullshit._  
“Listen.”, Ryan hissed, clearly starting to get annoyed with her pigheadedness. “Your knee is only going to get worse on a bike. And where will that get us? Nowhere.”  
His blue eyes stared unrelentingly into her brown ones.  
He did have a point, but in her opinion he was missing another one.  
“And what will walking the same distance in increased threefold time do to my knee? Where will that get us?”  
That he didn't have a remark to and defeatedly sighed at the ground, nevertheless not moving his hands.  
  
“Look. I'm sorry I got myself hurt, okay? I sure as hell didn't mean too. And it fucking sucks in this situation.”  
She didn't want to add her next statement, fearful of what it might make him realize, what it might make him do, but it was true and she needed to remind him of it, no matter how scared she was.  
“You'd probably be better off without me as it is.”  
This caused him to look up at her again, his expression unidentifiable to her.  
“Are you kidding me?”, he asked softly. “Even if I had to carry you to Texas, I sure as hell wouldn't be better off without you. Look around! There's nobody here. There's nobody at least twenty miles up north and … fuck, I have a feeling there's nobody for many miles south. I'd be crazy to leave the only other human who I can be sure is still here, no matter how damn wayward she is.”  
A fond smile found its way onto his lips with his last words.  
  
Less than three seconds later he had a rough 140 pounds of Sydney throwing themselves against his chest for the second time in two days - the bike forgotten and clattering to the ground - and this time he found himself hugging her back a lot quicker, needing the contact as much as she probably did.  
He didn't notice she was crying until she sobbed a broken “Promise you won't leave me” against his shirt.  
That was an awfully big thing to promise somebody he'd met just yesterday, but he'd be damned if he did anything than stay with her; too scared to be alone himself.  
Right here, in this state of total exception their lives were in, they needed each other.  
“I promise.”  
  
  
  
After ransacking the bathroom cabinet, Sydney came up with a bottle of rubbing alcohol, horse balm (“Is that also-” “Yes, it's also for humans, Ryan.”) and some gauze.  
It wasn't exactly ideal to treat her knee with, but it would take a lot of the pain from it, allowing them to use the bikes after all, even if Ryan insisted they had to limit themselves to not more than 30 miles a day – at least until she got better.  
She accepted this condition grudgingly to show that she was capable of compromising and after she had tended to her knee, they put the bikes waiting for them in front of the house and ate lunch in the kitchen.  
  
“I sure love me some cold canned chicken noodle soup.”, Sydney mock-moaned between two spoons full of said dish, only causing her counterpart to raise an eyebrow and assure her – again – that it'd be no problem for him to get up and get her the gross fish from the cabinet.  
Suddenly Sydney was a lot more interested in the soup.  
  
They packed as much as they could into two duffel bags they guiltily had to add to their mental 'Things we owe that one couple in Plymouth' list and strapped those to their bikes' racks, along with filling the double bottle holders behind both seats.  
Sydney winced when she had to bend her knee after mounting her bike, but Ryan stuck to their compromise dutifully and simply gave her a worried look before they took off.  
  
Soon they had crossed the Columbia and were now officially in Oregon, heading for the town of Hermiston.  
The road remained bleak to them, with little vegetation and occasional flat houses.  
It wasn't booming, hot Austin and it sure wasn't crowded, loud New York, so both of them continued to feel even more out of place than being the only humans around was already putting them and it definitely wasn't a good thing to weigh on their moods.  
Sydney just barely stopped herself from singing again.  
  
Eventually it was Ryan who broke their silence.  
“So forgive me for being curious, but how exactly did you end up in New York? It's quite a move across the country. And it's not like Silicon Valley doesn't have great universities and especially jobs in the technological field.”  
She had known the question would come. It was the first thing people in New York asked her when she mentioned being from California and she had never answered it as openly as she was going to now.  
It wasn't like Ryan knew any of her fellow students, her professors or _anyone_ , really.  
There was no reason to cover it up as much as she usually did.  
  
“I've been all over the place. I didn't grow up in the best home. Sure, they were rich, but they didn't give a shit about their children. Especially the older daughter, who didn't turn out to be the quiet heir they wanted. Rogue, abnormal Sydney.”  
These were harsh words to use, she could tell by Ryan's distraught expression, but sadly they were all too fitting.  
“They wanted me to be a housewife. I wanted to go see the world, go invent things, be a technologist. That didn't line up with what they wanted our family to be viewed as, so they punished me. My father was – and I guess he still is – involved in some shady business. I'm not gonna tiptoe around it; the Mafia.”  
“The Mafia?”, Ryan interrupted her carefully. “Porter doesn't strike me as a very Italian name.”  
“It isn't. He adopted my mother's name when they got married. Lets you do business easier.  
Once he locked me in my room for a week, so I ran away, got drunk off my ass in a ratty bar – I couldn't have been any older than 15, I have no clue how they let me in – and woke up in some poor lady's and her son's hotel room.  
They had found me unconscious on the street and taken me with them. Fortunately. It could've been any rapist instead.  
I told them everything, but as it stood they couldn't help me. The boy and I became good friends though.  
Actually Toby is my best friend now and we live together.  
However, when I was 17 my father wanted to force me into a marriage with the Don's son to get in with the Don.  
I saw no way to get out of it and only last second got the chance to tell Toby about it.  
The night before the wedding I already saw myself being a housewife in Italy for the rest of my life, when Toby came bursting through the window.  
Literally. There was glass everywhere.  
He took me to New York with him and his mother fought to get custody for me like a lioness. It worked.”  
  
During this whole monologue she had been staring at the front wheel of her bike, dreading his reaction to this seldom-told story.  
Granted – they hadn't known each other for long, but Sydney felt more dependent on Ryan than she preferred.  
  
“Goodness … that's – uhm – quite a story for sure. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I asked.”  
When she looked up at him, it was written all over his face.  
He was genuinely sorry for having made her tell him about her past, which was definitely not the reaction she had been anticipating.  
“It's fine. I've learned to live with it. New York has been treating me far better.”, she told him softly and he visibly relaxed.  
“I'm glad. You deserved better.”  
Judging from his widening eyes and the blush spreading across his cheeks, Sydney's brain wasn't the only one with a little filtering problem.  
“Thank you, Ryan.”

 


	7. The Mad King's cows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the discussion about bike seat/saddle the boys once had during a Minecraft Let's Play?  
> Well, as a European I found myself actually siding with Gavin.  
> I call it a bike saddle - suck it up!
> 
> x AT

They ended up making it to Interstate 84.  
Ryan had been hell-bent on staying in Stanfield to favor Sydney's hurt knee, but what he didn't bargain for was her riding her bike out of the city with a simple “Nah”.  
  
Yes, she knew she was being stupid.  
She knew she should probably have listened to him.  
Nonetheless their situation had her terrified and the sooner they'd come across other people, the better in her book.  
And the reason Ryan didn't bother to argue with her was probably that he felt the same.  
  
A few hours later they both wished he'd had his way, as now they'd be on this highway for the next twenty miles until they'd reach Pendleton – at least this was what Ryan got off a shabby street map nailed to the side of some pub just out of Hermiston.  
Neither knew of any bigger cities along their route through Oregon, so they were quite thankful for stumbling across that information.  
Right now, however, they probably hadn't even made it half-way to Pendleton and were already coming apart at the seams.  
Sydney's knee was thanking her for every single step on the pedal with a nice sting going up her entire leg, her rear had gone numb quite some time ago and Ryan was lowly complaining about _problems in the man-region_ , the choice of words earning him a chuckled “Seriously?” from his companion.  
  
The impact of the earthquakes was still omnipresent out here, with collapsed farm- and roadhouses interrupting the wide farmlands lining the street every so often.  
Rifts were littering the Interstate and they were particularly glad that one which had grown into an abyss was only affecting the highway leading in the opposite direction.  
Something was off about this.  
Of course the fault line meeting the Pacific Plate had big effects on the west coast, but such heavy destruction in the east of Washington and Oregon just didn't sit very right with them.  
  
When they agreed to just fall off their bikes with the next building that even began to compare to an intact structure, Ryan spotted a rattled farm off to the left side of the road.  
Sydney merely groaned at the state it was in. The farmhouse itself had given in to the earthquakes, but the barn behind it was surprisingly still up.  
“We did just say that we'd basically take anything.”, the blond reminded her and the exhaustion and weaved in plea in his voice made her evocative of her own fatigue.  
For once he'd win.  
They made their way up and across the overpass leading them off the Interstate and towards their night quarters.  
  
The farm turned out to be quite big; about a dozen semis parked on the compound, along with two tractors.  
A lot looked like Sydney could be able to hot-wire them – and _man,_ she did not care anymore if she'd hot-wire a car or a god damn tractor – but she was way too tired to give any of them a try.  
Once they had reached the barn, she literally fell off the bike trying to swing her now stiff leg over the saddle and just so managed not to land on her knee, but her ass.  
It seemed like Ryan would have laughed at her had he not been as played out. But as it was he got off his bike a bit more gracefully than Sydney, then picked hers up and offered her his hand.  
She accepted it with a sighed thanks and let him pull her to her feet, hissing when her weight was put on her right knee.  
Ryan hummed in sympathy. “Got it?”  
“Yeah.”  
  
Before they even opened the gate, the content of the barn was very clear.  
The cooling late afternoon air was filled with soft mooing and when they entered, they were greeted by twenty cows in an open stable.  
The smell as well as the lack of feed made it obvious that they hadn't been able to get out since the first earthquake.  
“Damn. So I guess these are our responsibility now?”, Ryan murmured and Sydney nodded reluctantly.  
“I guess so. Either their owners are gone or they're underneath what's left of the farmhouse. Whichever one it is, I don't think they're coming back so soon. So what do we do?”  
They shared a look.  
Neither of them were really up to deal with this right now, but unfortunately they both had enough compassion and morale to want to help the abandoned animals.  
The door leading to the cow run was visible on the other end of the barn, but the cows were separated from it by their enclosure, so what they'd have to do was unlock the stable, leave the door open and hope the beefs would just find enough food outside to last however long they'd have to, while still having the barn as protection once the nights would start getting even colder.  
  
As the lock was rusty and old, it was hardly a problem for Ryan to hew it off with the handle of a pitchfork.  
Sydney opened the back gate of the barn and as soon as the cows got a whiff of the much fresher air outside, they took their chance to get out.  
Ryan watched them go with an amused shaking of his head, prompting Sydney to ask him what was so funny.  
  
“If my co-workers knew about this … me freeing cows ...”  
“Care to elaborate?”  
This made him think for a second, contemplating whether he should share this story with her, but then she clearly saw him decide 'Why not'.  
“Well, do you know MineCraft?”  
The half Italian's arms folded over her chest at first, then she pointed up at her face in disbelief.  
“Hello? Technology student. Nerd.”  
He chuckled at that before continuing his explanation.  
“Okay, true. Anyway, it's one of the video games we play for our job and -”  
Sydney's face fell in an almost comical way.  
Her mouth opened and closed several times, erratic hand gestures not really helping it to find the words her brain was looking for.  
“Whoa – wait, … you mean to tell me … t-that you play _video games_ for a living?”  
Ryan nodded. “Jealous?”  
“Jealous?”, she echoed incredulously. “Are you kidding me? You're living _the dream._ I'd pay money to do that … no, wait, that'd contradict the purpose.”  
  
He took off towards the entry of the barn, where they'd left their bags, and Sydney followed him still a little dumbfounded.  
“Not sure I'd call playing MineCraft up to several times a week _the dream_ , but it's quite a nice job.”  
  
Each of them picked up one duffel bag and one backpack before they made their way up the ladder leading to the haymow.  
By now they had both gotten used to the smell of the barn and sleeping up here would definitely be better than the tennis table the night Ryan had found her.  
Caught in a short moment of clarity however, Sydney once more found herself stunned at how _surreal_ this whole situation was.  
She was currently in East Nowhere, Oregon (potentially in the middle of the fucking apocalypse), about to spend the night in a stinking barn with a Georgian-gone-Texan in his mid-thirties – and now it turned out that jerk had one of the coolest jobs she could imagine.  
_Jerk!_  
  
Ryan flopped down on a hay stack and groaned softly when he got to stretch out his back, while Sydney sat on another one facing him and started digging through her duffel back for the medical supplies she had picked up in Plymouth.  
“So back to what I was saying. We all have our separate houses in MineCraft and one day a cow showed up in mine. It wouldn't leave, so I did what every sane, astute person would have done: I named it Edgar and put it in a hole with a glass roof. And now – of course completely unreasonably so – I get accused of performing shady acts with that cow. But now _you_ can tell them that I came across as many as twenty trapped cows and I let them out.”  
  
When Sydney looked up to gape at him, he unwaveringly continued to stare at the barn's ceiling and she soon realized that _oh my God, he was serious._  
Her ringing laughter was enough to make him sit back up.  
She didn't even really know why she was laughing so hard, but _for Christ's sake,_ they were in East Nowhere, Oregon, potentially in the middle of the fucking apocalypse, about to spend the night in a stinking barn and _that man in his mid-thirties was apparently a notorious MineCraft cowfucker.  
_ That exact message was what she tried to get through to him, yet she was almost certain that nothing was intelligible through her wheezing guffaw anymore, so all that Ryan saw was a laughing (or crying?) mess pointing at him.  
  
He did have a hunch on what was so funny to her, though, and it brought a grin to his own face.  
It took literal minutes for him to understand fragments of what she was attempting to say.  
“You guys … actual five-year-olds … I can't, I- I can't, I'm _dying_ ”  
Eventually the technician wiped her cheeks to get rid of her tears, occasional chuckles still bubbling up beyond her control.  
“Oh geez, that was so good. You … god damn. Maybe I should set the cows free for good so they're safe.”  
Ryan pulled an exaggerated frown at that. “Not you too! I keep Edgar for sentimental reasons, not for his body.”  
With that he had definitely tickled the wrong spot, because it sent Sydney into her next laughing fit and sliding off the haystack, only slightly mindful of her hurt knee.  
She was doubled up and completely losing her shit, so Ryan snickered and lay back down on the hay, waiting for his companion to either gather herself or choke.  
He'd help her with the latter, though. Of course he would.  
  
Once Sydney had finally calmed down, her stomach was aching a good deal and she was able to feel every muscle.  
_Wow, he should sell this as a workout._  
When she got up, she found her abs's tormentor fast asleep on the hay, his hands folded on his belly, his legs crossed at his ankles.  
“Douche.”, she mumbled and flicked a stray piece of hay from the bale next to her onto his face, satisfied when it landed on his forehead.  
  
Settling back on the hay by her duffel bag, she finished what she had started seemingly hours earlier and pulled the rubbing alcohol as well as the horse balm out.  
She rolled up her pant leg once more and carefully freed her knee of the light layer of gauze she had wrapped around it, relieved to find the joint with exactly the same bruise she had last seen it with.  
It sure felt like the biking had made it worse, but more of the salves would numb it for the night and allow her to actually get rest.  
If she had to be honest she didn't really know the full effect of the horse balm; just that Toby's mother had kept it around for pain in her legs. The rubbing alcohol was something she had learned to appreciate a long time ago however, the cooling sensation it brought more than welcome on her knee.  
  
As soon as it was covered in gauze again, Sydney stood and hesitantly eyed Ryan.  
They had only managed to pack one blanket, so they'd have to share it and she didn't really want to wake him, knowing that if it'd be him waking her after this exhausting day, she'd probably have his head on a platter.  
She took the woolen blanket from his bag and walked over to him, then tentatively lay down next to the much larger man and threw the fabric to cover both of them, sweeping the hay piece off his face in the process.  
Ryan barely stirred, giving her the confidence to scoot closer to him and lightly rest her cheek against his biceps – a poor but welcome substitute pillow.  
  
Her brain was going one hundred miles an hour and into every possible direction, her mind teeming with thoughts about Toby back in New York, how to keep going, what the hell was really going on here, _damn, he's really warm_ , and where all of this would end, but she willed it all to quiet down, closed her eyes and eventually drifted off.

 


	8. The one in the hole

Sydney woke up engulfed in a wonderful warmth.  
Her biological clock didn't really insist on getting up yet, so she decided to keep her eyes closed and just enjoy her relaxed state for a little longer.  
She couldn't coax the information on what day it was and therefore when her first lecture would begin out of her foggy mind, but that was fine for now.  
Toby would wake her up once he left for his.  
  
Slowly but surely her senses came back to her and she noticed that _something was off.  
_ Sure, Toby managed to get the kitchen dirty enough for it to stink now and then.   
This smell however was far beyond her roommate's pretty considerable pig abilities.  
It smelled like a barn.  
 _Barn._  
  
Everything came crashing back to her.   
The earthquakes, running, almost dying, breaking into a house, the farm, _Ryan._  
Ryan …  
Just now her hearing reported her a soft snoring sound at her left ear.  
  
When she opened her eyes, all they registered was the faint purple of Ryan's shirt in the dark, her face too close to even read the font.  
With a shock she realized she was _pressed against his chest_ ,  
the warmth originating from his body next to hers and his arm, which he had wrapped around her waist loosely.  
Her heart was in her mouth within milliseconds and her first instinct was to get away from him, but something held her back.  
  
Maybe it was the tired but relaxed soft smile she saw on his face when she looked up.  
Maybe she just didn't want to disturb his sleep and abandon his warmth just yet.  
Maybe this was a lot closer than she had allowed anyone but Toby in a long time.  
Maybe this was the apocalypse.  
Maybe she didn't give a fuck.  
  
“Damn you, Haywood.”, she whispered, then snuggled against him once more, where sleep found her easily.  
  
  
  
Out of the blue his warmth and presence was _yanked_ from her and a horrifying yelp followed by the splintering and _cracking_ of wood startling Sydney from her sleep.   
Everything was happening at once.   
She couldn't tell where up and down was.  
The ground was shaking and so was the ceiling.  
Faint yet terrified mooing was latched into the sound of chaos.  
When she finally found a resembling of her bearings, her stomach dropped.   
  
The barn was _breaking apart._  
It took her what seemed like ages to come to the conclusion that this was another earthquake and this time they were right inside of it.  
But they had gotten away before, they'd get away this time just fine; she'd just have to grab Ryan and-  
Ryan?  
“Ryan?!”, she called over the roar of the quaking ground and the collapsing structure, desperation spreading through her veins like liquid ice when she couldn't spot him anywhere.  
“ _Sydney!_ ”  
His answering cry was unlike anything she had heard before – sobbed, frantic and _scared to death.  
_ With a gasp she realized where she'd have to look for him and scooted to the edge of the torn mow, not being half as careful as she should have been.  
  
She found Ryan dangling from one of the planks bent about a foot underneath her, his hands barely seeming to find purchase on the old wood.   
Beneath him awaited nothing but a bottomless, gaping abyss in the earth.  
“Please help me!”  
His forlorn plea was simply not audible over the bluster of the farm, the _world_ going to shit, but she could read it in his face; his eyes wider than what she thought possible, his skin ashen, with tears of blank despair running over his cheeks.   
  
The two halves of the barn were swaying precariously and something gave Sydney the feeling that if she didn't get herself out of harm's way _right the fuck now_ , this would be it.   
Nonetheless she felt a deep responsibility for this smart aleck who'd dug her out of that god damn hotel not so long ago and her conscience decided _fuck it,_ either both of them would get out of here or neither would.  
  
She inched forward until she was right at the edge of the haymow, then planted her toes as firmly against the wood as she could and bent down at her waist.  
The combined length of her torso and her arms allowed her to grab Ryan tightly at the middle of his forearms.   
“I've got you!”, she assured him insistently, hoping to get him to let go and trust her to bear his weight, even if she didn't fully trust herself to.   
He worried his bottom lip and closed his eyes for a second, before nodding several times.   
His hands let go of the plank and painfully grasped her arms and for a terrifying second when his full weight was suddenly on her, Sydney thought her grip would slip.  
Her upper arms were already shaking from the sheer exertion of holding on to him and a little sadistic voice in her head averted that she wouldn't be able to pull him up.  
She wouldn't let it win, though.  
  
Once she had managed to pull him up about half an inch, she told him to hold on to her shoulder with his right hand, which he didn't question, and as soon as she had a hand free grabbed onto his belt, the new leverage enabling her to hoist him up and over the ledge.  
There wasn't any time for them to catch their breath, as the sudden shifting of weight had caused the barn to tilt, threatening to fall and either bury them underneath it or – worse – have them tumble into the abyss after all.  
Sydney pulled Ryan to his feet and took off towards the window, her hand not letting go of his.  
Thankfully the old, thin glass burst with one elbow hit and she didn't hesitate to jump, dragging Ryan after her and not finding resistance.  
  
Neither of them had the coordination nor prudence to roll when they hit the ground and Sydney felt her knee protest heavily at the impact, but she could feel the wooden structure tilting further behind them, the ongoing earthquake aiding it on its way to crush them, so she fought to regain her legs and ran until her knees gave in.  
The shaking stopped merely a few second later.  
  
Sydney's chest was heaving, her lungs burning with the need to get enough oxygen into her body to compensate for the shock and strain it had gone through.  
Her ears were ringing almost painfully and her head felt like it was about to explode, causing her to close her eyes to will some of the throbbing ache away.  
  
Only slowly her brain put together what had actually happened.   
It was like Mother Nature was out for their heads and the bitch was one damn good hunter.  
The last strike had already been damn close, but this one?  
They had escaped by a hairbreadth.   
If 'Stochastic 101' hadn't failed her, there was a more than slim chance that they'd get away next time.  
But it wasn't their decision if there would be a next time.  
  
When her hearing started picking up sounds again, what she heard tore her from her thoughts abruptly.  
Soft sobbing sounds reached her, sounding like their causer was trying to suppress them but failing miserably, and when she turned around, she found Ryan lying only a few feet from her, curled into a ball, his body shaking at irregular intervals.   
Her heart melted.   
Unfortunately she knew exactly what he was going through and how hard it sometimes was to snap out of it.  
He'd seen himself closer to death than she'd wish anyone to ever be and it was something that could shake a human to his very foundations, warranting the most stable persons to experience a breakdown.  
  
Sydney cursed quietly when her knee's still refused her service and nolens volens crawled over to him, careful not to startle him in his vulnerable state.  
“Ryan.” Her voice was soft yet more than a whisper to make sure she'd get through to him. “It's Sydney. We're safe now. It's okay. You're okay.”  
She delicately placed her hand on his upper arm and started rubbing it, mindful to keep the movement consistently slow.   
He was close to hyperventilation but thankfully not quite there, so she gently hooked an arm around him – sighing in relief when he didn't fight her – and sat him upright.  
Even though she had been in such a situation before, she'd never been on the witnessing side and wasn't sure how to comfort someone who wasn't herself, so she leaned Ryan against her chest, hugged him very loosely and told him to breathe with her to her count, setting a rhythm that slowed down continuously after a few counts, _in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth._  
  
It felt like an eternity until he started to relax against her, adrenalin gradually leaving his system as well as hers, exposing them both to their exhaustion.  
As soon as he was breathing okay, Sydney started mumbling soft reassurances to Ryan, making sure to repeat them as often as she could.  
Eventually his shaking had abated to a faint tremor, giving the illusion he was cold rather than agitated.  
“'m sorry.”   
Although his voice was husky and muffled by her shirt she heard him clearly and shook her head gently.  
“Oh Jesus, don't apologize. Not for that. I know how you feel. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. I … I'm just glad I got you outta there.”  
“Me too.”, he whispered weakly, causing her to hold him tighter.   
They sat like that for what was probably hours and Sydney's legs went numb halfway through it, yet neither found in them to move; too shaken, distressed and _tired_ , and at last they fell into a restless sleep, still huddled together in their sitting position.  
  
  
  
Sydney wasn't sure how much later she woke up and she couldn't really bring herself to care.  
The position of the sun gave her the vibe of afternoon, but did it matter?  
She couldn't see them traveling anywhere right now and her pessimistic side just wanted to lie down and wait for the next earthquake to swallow them whole; do what it apparently had done to the fucking rest of humanity.  
Ryan was still fast asleep against her and she didn't have the heart to wake him, so she wiggled out from underneath him and laid him down on the ground as carefully as possible.   
  
The crack the earthquake had dug into the landscape was unmistakable and where it had hit the barn she now saw a pile of wood and roof tiles on either side of the abyss.   
Behind it she spotted the cow herd and couldn't help but notice that it seemed smaller than before.   
It was most likely that the insatiable earth had swallowed some of the poor creatures.   
_Well,_ Sydney thought bitterly, _it would probably have been all of them, hadn't we freed them._  
At least that was something.  
  
With all due respect to the huge rift she just _had_ to check if any of their stuff was salvageable, so she approached the ruins of the barn from every way possible, lifting planks and boards where she dared to, eventually finding all four of their bags at about the same place.   
The only thing that appeared to be gone was their blanket – which wasn't the thing she would have parted with the first, had she had a choice –, yet she had a hunch that it had probably gone over the edge with Ryan, so she stopped looking for it fairly quickly.  
Another thing which seemed lost to the planet's moods were their bikes and Sydney put up mental “I'm sorry!” post-its to the couple from Plymouth as well as her knee.   
  
This time they had gotten hurt.   
Of course what mattered most was that they were both alive, but Sydney knew about luck and its tendency to run out.   
The only question was: When would it run out?  


 


	9. Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little longer than the last chapters to bring Ryan and Sydney back on the road after the last strike.   
> Hope you don't mind!
> 
> (Chapter title quote by J. R. R. Tolkien) 
> 
> x AT

Eventually nothing else remained to be done by Sydney but wait for Ryan to wake up.  
Even though they urgently had to discuss how to go on, she knew how badly he needed rest after what had happened, so she sat down next to him, pulled her notebook out from her backpack and just started writing.  
  
At first she noted down the events that had taken place on each past day – including the latest one – then she went on to just write down her thoughts; a technique which had proven to effectively clear her head and calm her down in the past.   
  
_I'm worried about Ryan.  
Heaven knows getting reminded of your own mortality in such a way isn't what one needs to stay focused and motivated during the apocalypse … or whatever sick joke this is supposed to be.  
If the earthquakes don't stop, we'll only have more close calls and what if he just freezes up once we're faced with the next one?  
This could become a full-blown phobia for him and I'm by no means a therapist.  
It's probably the shitty situation we've been thrown in together, making us skip the stage of acquaintance and go straight to being dependent on each other, however: it feels right.  
Somehow my normal life seems to have ended years ago.   
It's scary.  
With every day that passes it feels like this is our life now – and what if it's true?  
We could still walk into the next town, find people and discover that this was all just a local catastrophe, but I just don't think that's true.  
What if we reach Austin and Ryan's friends aren't there?  
What if we go to New York and Toby isn't there?  
I know I ought to be positive, but how?  
As it stands, we're lucky if we make it to Austin in one piece.   
  
_Sydney closed the notebook and placed it back in the rucksack, frowning when she noticed Ryan's furrowed brows.   
He was probably having bad dreams, the poor thing.  
She began to lightly brush her hand over his forehead, hoping to ease him into a more pleasant and restful sleep, but he woke with a start only a minute later, gasping as if for air before he realized he had been dreaming.   
“Hey. You okay?”, Sydney asked him gently, leaning over to rub his back in a compassionate gesture.  
“Yeah.”   
He left it at that mumbled response, pulled his knees to his chest, then rested his arms followed by his chin on top of them.  
  
“Ryan, if you need to talk … I'm here. I can't really offer much more-”  
“A hug?”, he interrupted her, his apparent embarrassment at his understandable request sending a stab right through her.   
“Aw, of course.”, she cooed softly and pulled him to her chest, rocking both of them back and forth. “I'm sorry. I'm stronger than this. I usually am. It's just-”  
“Don't apologize.”, she scolded him without and harshness to her voice. “Something like this would get to anyone. You're taking it like a champ. Really.”  
  
Running her fingers through his hair, she noticed how greasy and filthy it had become and sighed when she realized that hers was probably worse after her stay _under_ a hotel.  
“You got our bags out?”, Ryan suddenly spoke up again, obviously having spotted her backpack next to her.  
“Yeah, all four of them. Didn't find the blanket, though. Looks like we're gonna have to cuddle.”  
She had meant it as a joke if anything, but then she felt Ryan nod against her collarbone.  
If she had to be honest, she'd forgotten what she had woken up to the last night over everything that happened afterwards, but now it came back to her in stunning detail.  
  
It wouldn't have been fair of her to hold him accountable for anything in the moment though, so she attributed his new need of being close to what he'd been through and sorted it away into the 'Temporary' drawer.  
  
Instead she let her gaze wander over the semis still scattered over the estate. The earthquake hadn't swallowed any of them, thankfully, and even though she had never hot-wired a truck, it would be worth the try – especially with their bikes gone.   
She wasn't really sure how far semis had been upgraded in terms of anti-theft technology and if they were up to cars' state of the art, but these all looked old enough for it not to matter.  
  
“I'm gonna go look if I can't get one of those semis to start. … You wanna come?”  
Ryan had tensed slightly when she talked about going away, so she had quickly added the invitation.  
He nodded with a small, grateful smile and she helped him get up.   
  
As not even Ryan knew how to pick a car door, Sydney climbed up the first semi and regretfully bashed in the window with her elbow, needing several blows because of her own tired state.  
She reached inside and unlocked the door, then also opened the passenger's door so Ryan could get in with her.  
With a sigh she noticed that the cover on the steering column had three bolts keeping it in place, not simple Phillips-type ones at that.   
Thankfully the glove compartment was unlocked ( _Sydney was certain she would have kicked it open otherwise_ ) and held a set of matching screwdrivers, so the plastic was soon gone, leaving her with a not at all familiar assortment of different bundled wires all around the ignition.  
“This might need some time to figure out.”, she mumbled sighingly.  
“Anything I can do to help?”, Ryan offered tentatively and she shrugged, in the middle of unscrewing what held the ignition in place to look at the wires which connected to it.   
“Not really. It would be great if you could look for gas cans, actually. Even if this one's full – which somehow I doubt –, it will be nice to have extra.”  
He hesitated briefly and Sydney was about to take her request back when he nodded and slid out of the passenger's seat, walking towards the three trucks to their right.  
  
She didn't want to admit it to herself, but sending Ryan away had calmed Sydney.  
Not that he was a nuisance, but she needed to concentrate on this and with his presence right beside her she found her thoughts wandering to him and his … what was she supposed to call it? condition? more often than not.  
Of course she couldn't blame him for it, but the happenings of the morning put a weight on her mind she wasn't exactly thankful for.  
  
The ignition was connected to six wires for different things and _thank God,_ they were labeled.   
This was her going out on a limb, but she figured that it would be enough to connect a wire to the slot for 'battery' and the other end of it into 'accessories', letting out a triumphant shout when she heard beeping and the lights on the dash came on.  
She carefully stripped the insulation off the middle of the wire, then put another wire's end in 'ST'.  
Basically, that should have her set.  
With a deep breath the tapped the other end of the 'ST' wire against the uninsulated part of the other one, a wolfish grin appearing on her face when the engine came to life.  
  
Ryan, who had put quite a distance between himself and the truck already, turned around at the noise and Sydney gave him a smug thumbs-up.  
He mirrored the gesture with a smile, but then returned to the semi he was looting.  
  
Sydney did need something to re-insulate the wire however and simply ripped a piece of insulation tape from another cable she didn't deem important at the moment, wrapping it around the naked copper part on her wire to prevent the truck from shorting out.  
The stick shift taunted her out of the corner of her eye.   
She had driven enough semis before to know how it worked – slightly different than in a car – but that had been years ago.  
Oil, brakes and air pressure seemed to all be fine, so as soon as Ryan returned, they would be ready to hit the road.  
  
Only a few minutes later they had their luggage along with three cans of gas stored behind them in the driver's cabin and Sydney was glad the trailer was uncoupled already, as she had absolutely no clue how to do that and “trying to figure it out” probably wouldn't have done the job here.  
Ryan climbed in next to her and before he got the chance to settle down, he eyed the gear shift warily.  
“Please tell me you know how to work that.”   
“Uh … I  _used_ to. It's been some time since I've last driven a truck, so I suppose you should buckle up.”  
He nodded and followed her advice. “Where'd you learn how?”  
“The Army.”, Sydney replied truthfully.  
“You've been in the Army?”  
The surprise he conveyed wasn't new to Sydney. She didn't exactly look the type to run around with a huge MG, which is what most people pictured the Army as (not 100% falsely so).  
“Yep, for three years. Y'know, my parents locked me away at home for 16 years and once I was free from that I wanted to explore, wanted to find out where my place in the world is. It took years and I still don't think I quite got it.”  
“I guess it's not driving a semi through the middle of nowhere?”, Ryan deadpanned, making Sydney chuckle as she put the truck into gear, remembering to use the clutch just the last second.  
  
  
The Interstate was deserted as ever.  
Cracks littered the surface of the asphalt, making Sydney anxious as she steered the semi over it.   
For all they knew, the ground could open up any second and swallow them complete with truck and she wasn't exactly keen on it.  
  
She was starting to warm up to the gear shift again, explaining it to Ryan as she went.  
They probably wouldn't be able to drive at night time (Sydney admitted a little sheepishly that she had only hooked the ignition up to the battery to start the engine, leaving all the wiring for the lights and turn signals alone out of inexperience) and she wasn't tired as of now, but it would be nice to switch sometime if Ryan ended up feeling confident enough to drive the truck.  
  
Now that they'd be reaching Pendleton in an estimated 20 minutes, stopping there for food wasn't a necessity anymore, and they decided to drive until the darkness made it too dangerous to.  
Searching through the stuff in the driver's cab, Ryan came up with several maps of the Western states, quickly picking out one that would show them the route they were on.  
“How much time do you think we've got left before sunset?”, he asked casually, obviously already having his own opinion but wanting hers too.  
Sydney briefly glimpsed up at the sky.  
“Six hours. Tops.”  
Her companion nodded thoughtfully, busying himself further with the map.  
Honestly she admired him for how well he was coping. She had been in a life-threatening situation more than once, the last one's nightmares still continuing to date, and she knew that it wasn't easy.  
  
“I think we can make it to Mountain Home then. That's a good few miles into Idaho already. Should take us five to six hours, depending on how fast we go.” After a minute without a real answer from her, Ryan added, “It's about halfway to Salt Lake City, too.”  
Almost certain what the wistfulness in his voice attributed to, Sydney smiled softly.  
“That's a third of the way home for you.”, she rejoiced, trying to be more cheerful than she really was. “See, we'll be there sooner than we think.”  
“Well, this thing won't make it all the way to Austin.”  
He tapped against the fuel gauge and the black-haired sighed. Of course she knew that already. Even though she wasn't sure how much the semi drew, the tank was only half-full and the gas cans they had were a drop in the ocean.   
If the truck would take them even 600 miles she'd be impressed, and half of those already made up the road to Mountain Home.  
  
“You hungry?”  
Sydney decided to just go with Ryan's change of topic when he stood up and went over to their bags, sorting through them in search of an acceptable breakfast.  
“Yeah. I think I put some chocolate-filled croissant stuff in there. That should do. - If they didn't get mushed, that is.”  
“I'm just glad _I_ didn't get mushed.”, he mumbled, still digging through one of the duffel bags.  
The young woman sighed, the hand she currently didn't need for shifting tearing at her hair in a slightly frustrated manner.   
“Aw, Ryan, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. Maybe it came out wrong.”, she said gently, completely ready to admit to a mistake which he dismissed with a wave of his hand.   
He fell back into the seat heavily, placing one of the plastic-wrapped croissants on the dash next to her.  
“Forget it, I – I guess I'm just touchy. It wasn't fair of me. I know you didn't mean it.”  
  
Risking a quick glimpse at him – as the road was totally straight at the moment – Sydney found herself worrying once more.   
Ryan had seemed to keep it together during the last hour, but now the weariness and shock had full-on returned to his face, aging it by what looked to be at least five years.  
She was at a loss with how to help him really and it was heartbreaking to watch.  
  
In a shifting-break ( _GOD, she was probably shifting too much, but this thing needed much more of it than a car (which probably came from having twice as many gears) _)__ she grabbed her croissant and awkwardly opened the wrapper, her left hand remaining on the steering wheel doing little to help, then stuffed the pastry into her mouth halfway when they suddenly reached a turn in the road and she needed to shift again.  
  
An odd sensation of relief washed through her when she heard Ryan laugh (not chuckle but actually _laugh_ , thank God) at her probably goofy display.  
“Jesus, you _adorable_. Are you __sure you know how to drive this?”, he snickered before tearing into his own croissant much more gracefully.  
She huffed something with mock anger and all her hopes for it to sound remotely like “I'm not adorable. This truck is bullying me!” were crushed immediately, when her companion only laughed harder at what croissant-muffled, offended sounds came from her mouth.  
  
Sydney balled up her plastic wrapper and attempted to chuck it at him, obviously failing terribly as the projectile didn't have nearly enough weight to it and went down as soon as it had left her hand, causing Ryan to start wheezing with laughter.  
  
  
They had a long, rocky road in front of them.  
It would lead them to their breaking point and possibly beyond.   
But this moment gave Sydney the stirring hope that maybe, just maybe, they would somehow be fine.  


 


	10. Crossroads

“No, just static.”  
Sydney sighed languidly. Ryan had been trying to get the radio to work for a few minutes now, his success rather limited.  
(To be honest she'd been surprised how after her shitty wiring job the radio was even working (at least technically), but her pride made her keep that to herself.)  
“Do you think that means the radio towers or … the radio _stations_ are down?”, she asked tentatively, already having an answer of her own in mind.  
“Could be both.”, Ryan murmured darkly, then seemed to pull it together, though. “Let's just hope it's the towers.”  
“Yeah.”

 

  
  
“How about this?”  
Ryan emerged from practically having his head in the glove compartment, holding up a CD triumphantly.  
Music seemed like a welcome change to their occasional chat that was desperately trying to steer around everything concerning their situation, so Sydney shrugged.  
“Sure, why not. Pop it in.” It only took her a second to notice the double entendre of her words, prompting her to add an “Ew. That's what she said.”, which Ryan gave a soft chuckle to.  
He put the CD in the radio's slot and it started playing almost immediately, Sydney giving a satisfied groan when the country sounds of Ed Bruce's 'Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys' filled the cab.  
“Somebody's got _taaaste_!”  
Before Ryan even had the chance to react, she reached over to turn up the volume and started to sing along, leaving the blond with no choice but to join her.  
  
The tune was quite fitting for their lonely ride down the highway, with no cars, no humans and no graspable end in reach.  
Sydney idly thought that her own mother probably viewed her as sort of a cowboy disparagingly, running off to pursue her heart's desires and passions instead of toeing the line and becoming what her parents wanted her to be against her will.  
And _man_ , she loved wearing those spurs.  
They had gotten her stuck more than once, but eventually she had always made her horse gallop again.  
As sad as that was, even _this_ gave her more than the enslaved life her parents had mapped out for her.  
She was with decent company and good music, she was _alive_.  
And somehow they'd bring this horse home.  
  
The next song on the CD was 'All My Ex's Live In Texas' by George Strait and while Sydney wasn't big into country, there were some classics she just had to appreciate – and apparently they were all on the disc.  
Neither of them saw a reason to stop the singing, so they continued it with this song, Sydney giving Ryan a subtle, worried glance the first time the line “And Texas is the place I'd dearly love to be” came up, only to focus back on the road in relief when it didn't seem to get to him at all.  
Even though she was technically prepared to be there for him once his recent trauma would catch up to him (and she was unfortunately certain it would), she would prefer for it to at least wait until they got to the day's destination, where she'd be able to properly take care of him.

 

  
  
They arrived in Mountain Home with the last rays of fading sunlight.  
The CD had been turned off a few hours ago, neither of them wanting to get sick of the country songs by playing them again and again after the last song on the disc had ended.  
Sydney parked the truck on a completely empty supermarket parking lot, picking up the ignition and taking out the wires to kill the engine.  
  
“I don't know about you, but I'd rather wait until tomorrow to go anywhere.”, she told Ryan with a soft yawn.  
One reason was that honestly she was too tired to break into any houses right now, but also she really wasn't keen on stumbling across bodies, especially not in the middle of the night.  
“Fine by me.”, he mumbled, obviously fairly exhausted himself.  
His companion nodded and got up from the driver's seat, her knee protesting harshly at the sudden movement.  
Only using it to work the accelerator for the last few hours had relaxed the joint quite nicely, so Sydney paid its stiffness no real mind.  
She dug her cagoule out of her backpack and tucked it between the driver's door and the cab to somewhat cover the broken window, then followed Ryan to the back.  
  
He was standing in front of the built-in bed looking unsure about something and Sydney immediately noticed what the problem was: The bed was clearly only designed for one and holding both of them would be a really tight fit.  
Ryan shuffled the top of his shoe across the floor in a sheepish manner.  
“So … you said something about cuddling?”  
  
Sydney felt torn.  
A part of her distinctly told her this wasn't a good idea _at all_ and she should somehow insist to take the driver's seat (a different part amusedly reminded her of how Ryan would absolutely not let that happen), another one just wanted her to give in to her exhaustion and simply take the comfort and safety being close to him was sure to hold.  
She hadn't made herself that utterly _vulnerable_ in a long time, yet when would she ever again, if not during the apocalypse?  
As so often during the last days and pretty much her entire life, Sydney decided: Fuck it!  
Quickly she slipped off her shoes and slid underneath the (thankfully washed) covers, pressing herself as close to the wall of the cab as possible before patting the spot behind her.  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut and suddenly wished for an earthquake to come along and make her disappear.  
The first part of her brain had been right. This was a _horrible_ idea.  
Oh God, her straight-to-action mindset would get her killed one day. Honestly, she was surprised it hadn't already.  
As if their situation wasn't already unnerving and grueling enough, she had to go and make it even more complicated by going with the fucking cuddling joke ( _Was_ it the joke? What the hell was it?) and -  
  
Her whole body went stiff when the mattress behind her dipped, the blanket was lifted and suddenly something big and _amazingly warm_ lay against her back.  
Ryan carefully wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to still leave a bit of a distance in between them but finding it impossible with how small the bed was.  
“Uhm … is this alright?”, he asked worriedly, momentarily removing his arm to brush her hair away from his face before putting it back.  
Sydney's usually overly quick mouth took forever to form a response.  
Everything inside her fought against admitting how absolutely perfect this simple contact felt, how much she needed to be close to somebody, and the tiny voice in her head who kept trying to persuade her muscles into going lax against Ryan's body was shoved into a corner by her pride and her stubbornness to receive a good beating.  
“I – uh, yeah ...”  
_Very intellectual, Sydney.  
_ “Are you sure?” His half-confidence had clearly left Ryan with her unease and he let loose on her waist, prepared to take his arm away completely. “I can go sleep in one of the seats, y'know.”  
“No!”, she objected quick like a pistol. “That'd be idiotic. We both need the rest – and no stiff necks.”  
She exhaled through her nose, the tiny voice abruptly bulking up to give pride and stubbornness a one-finger salute.  
“I'm just on edge and overthinking stuff. You're fine where you are.”  
  
Once he'd relaxed behind her, Sydney tried to get her body to do the same, finally getting tired of keeping up her attitude.  
It was clear that Ryan was not going to harm her in any way. He had done nothing to make her mistrust him and in turn deserved a little trust from her.  
“I know what you mean. The last week had adrenaline for a year.”, he agreed, his warm breath hitting her neck and effectively giving her goosebumps, which she hoped he didn't see in the dark.  
“Waking up in a new place every morning is stressful, along with not knowing how we'll even get there day after day”. His chuckle vibrated through both their bodies. “We've upgraded our traveling continuously though. Tomorrow we're gonna steal a plane.”  
Sydney playfully elbowed him in the stomach, thankful for the more easygoing atmosphere.  
“Right. You're gonna pick the lock, I'm gonna hot-wire the ignition and we'll be in Austin in an hour. You're full of shit, Haywood.”  
At that both of them burst into laughter.  
  
Just when they had calmed down, Sydney felt Ryan's hand going from her waist to brush down her thigh and she tensed up again for a moment, before he rested it on her knee.  
“Still swollen, huh? How does it feel?”, he asked caringly and after a few seconds began to rub gentle circles right under her knee cap, where he knew the worst bruising was.  
She tested it by bending her leg as far as his body behind her and his light hold allowed it, finding the joint still stiff but a little more compliant now that her weight was off it.  
“I'll live.”, was her eventual decision. “I just wish there was a real improvement so it'd stop being a problem.”  
Ryan made a scolding clicking sound. “Well you could start by stopping to make it less of a problem than it actually is. If it actually got the rest it needs –“  
“– we'd arrive in Austin by the end of the year.”, Sydney finished for him, trying to keep the annoyance in her voice as subtle as possible. “C'mon, Ryan. We're not having this discussion again. I'll gladly rest up once we find _somebody_ and hopefully find out what the hell's going on. Until then I guess you'll have to keep rubbing.”  
She could nearly _hear_ him smile.   
“Is it helping?”  
“It makes it hurt less. I'm not sure if it's just distracting me or actually taking the pain away, but it's good.”  
He simply nodded and continued his cautious massage, the steady motion allowing Sydney to calm down enough to actually close her eyes and let her mind go blank for a while.  
  
Her head was cushioned on her upper arm a little uncomfortably to allow her slim form to be as close to the wall as possible, creating more room for the much broader Ryan, and Sydney was sure that the limb would go numb at some point during the night, but somehow that was okay.  
All that mattered was that they had made it through this chaotic day, coming out of it damaged but whole.  
The combined warmth of their bodies and the blanket was slowly lulling her to sleep and she was just about to slip into unconsciousness when Ryan spoke up again.  
  
“Hey, uhm … I was really, really glad I had you today. I mean, without you there I would have been dead anyway, but even if I had made it … It was good to have somebody to talk to afterwards. To just have somebody around.” He groaned with irritation at his rambling. “I guess I'm trying to say thanks?”  
Sydney gingerly moved her hand down to her knee and wrapped it around his.  
“You're welcome. I'd say we're even now, but there's no owing in friendship.”  
Ryan smiled at her declaration of their status, tangling his fingers with hers before bringing their arms back up to wrap around her waist, cuddling her close.  
“Good night, Sydney.”  
“Good night, Ryan.”  
  
It was weird.  
Her whole mind had been dead set on being uncomfortable this close to Ryan, yet it had only taken him some simple touches and a few soft words for her to feel a sense of calmness and belonging.  
Something inside her really wanted to be uneasy about this fact, but the rest of her was too tired to listen to it.  
Or maybe it just didn't want to?  
The matter was put back into its drawer for eventual investigation.  
Right now Sydney was pretty alright with the status quo.

 


	11. Life imitates art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the hiatus! I've been on vacation for the last few weeks and forgot to tell you guys in advance and I'm not a big fan of posting "This is not an update, this is just an excuse for why there's no update"-chapters. 
> 
> But now here you go! 
> 
> x AT

The next morning Ryan found the soothing warmth he'd grown used to over the last hours missing from his embrace and couldn't quite tone down his disappointment.  
They had had to shift around a lot during the night as sleeping in a truck bed together had turned out to really not be the brightest idea and eventually the only position which had worked was with Ryan's back against the wall and him clinging tightly to Sydney so she wouldn't fall out, which now left him wondering how she had snuck off without waking him up in the first place.  
  
He would have been lying had he said that it hadn't been nice to have the temperamental, witty woman close to him, being grounded by her strong presence and the way she seemed to maintain control of the situation after the last day's earthquake.  
As the bed was cold next to him, he gathered that Sydney had already been gone for quite some time and worry began to nag on his nerves, so he got up himself and made his way to the front of the truck, spotting the technologist sitting on the tractor unit's hood with her back turned to him.  
The chilly air coming in despite the makeshift cover of the broken window, along with the low position of the sun, told him it still had to be early morning, so he grabbed the blanket they had shared and climbed out of the semi.  
  
Standing next to it on the ground, he was reminded of just how big this thing was and Ryan cursed his lack of flexibility in comparison to her when he pulled himself up next to Sydney with probably a lot less grace than her.  
He put the blanket around both of their shoulders before giving her an amicable “Good morning”.  
She returned the greeting quietly; a volume which just didn't _belong_ with her, Ryan decided.  
“You okay? Didn't expect you to be up and outside this early after yesterday.”, he asked carefully, not being able to judge her state of mind.  
Sydney merely shrugged.  
“I couldn't sleep anymore, so I came here. I've always liked quiet mornings and you don't get those in New York.”  
  
Looking to his right, the gent examined her tired face.  
Under her eyes he saw slightly dark bags, which he knew he most likely shared due to their sleep deprivation, her lips were chapped and there was a faint sunburn across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose (he made a mental note to grab sunscreen if they should stumble upon some).  
Yet she looked at peace, almost … _happy_ in this moment, smiling softly at the play of colors the rising sun created around them.  
Ryan let her serenity be transferred onto his worn down nerves, scooting a little closer before wrapping his arm around her shoulders, silently seeking their shared contact of the previous night once more.  
Sydney smiled at him and snaked her arm around his waist, obviously recognizing his need.  
“And how are you?”, she asked sympathetically. “Yesterday was … _a thing._ ”  
“ … okay.”, he settled on fairly quickly. “After how I felt right after it, I was expecting to be worse.”  
She nodded thoughtfully.  
“Yeah, to be honest I was expecting you to have nightmares. Not complaining that you didn't so far, though.”  
“So far? So it can still happen?”  
  
Frankly Ryan felt fine.  
Weaker and in some sense more dependent than before, yes, but it didn't feel like his close encounter with Mother Nature on her period was going to give him any more problems.  
  
“It's different for everyone. Some have a phobia for the rest of their life, some aren't affected for months and then get hit by it full force out of the blue. Some also get it in phases.”  
She sighed softly.  
“I'm afraid it's too early to tell with you, but I'm here for you, no matter what.”  
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”  
He squeezed her shoulder briefly.  
  
  
  
They sat in companionable silence for several minutes.  
Little of the awkwardness and distance they had started off with was left now and it brought Sydney's anxiety about it back.  
When she had first met Toby, it had clicked between them almost immediately, the chaotic, silly boy taking her mind off of her situation at home.  
He'd been the only male she had ever trusted this way.  
  
She was angry about it.  
She wasn't angry at Ryan, she was angry at her own body, her own _self_ , whatever it was that caused it, for _now_ out of all times allowing somebody close, when all her life she had struggled with her fear of emotional and physical proximity to men.  
  
Trying not to make it look like he had scared her off, Sydney swiftly slid off the hood and started stretching out her legs.  
Her knee was aching a lot less after the restful night, so she was in the hopes that it might be on the road to recovery despite the things she was constantly putting it through.  
Ryan landed next to her with a puff of breath, folding the blanket before heading back inside the truck to store it on the co-driver's seat.  
  
Sydney groaned internally.  
Of course she had somehow managed to make it awkward again.  
Something inside her didn't want to accept any closeness and she had a gnawing suspicion that it was her father.  
The way he had treated her had made her extremely careful around men and it was rare that one managed to gain her trust.  
Ryan just seemed to take it without ever needing to sign on the postman's clipboard and it just wasn't _fair_.  
She had cared for men in the past – of course she had – but even after months, in some cases after _fucking years_ she couldn't completely trust them, always eventually expecting them to hurt her.  
With Toby it was different.  
With Ryan ... it was different.  
  
The fact that she cared about him was a given condition.  
After all he had dug her out of her grave.  
And that they'd stuck together was just as much a datum, neither of them wanting to be alone in their situation.  
But then something about the kind and dorky older man had just gotten Sydney _way too attached_ without ever checking in with her about it.  
It was making every alarm bell ring and a part of her wanted to slam all doors shut, while the other one was almost ... glad, yeah, _glad_ that a man had found a way to not scare her. (Which in itself was scaring her, though.)  
An even tinier part of her clung to the hope that this had to mean she wasn't entirely traumatized, entirely incompatible, entirely _broken._  
  
And while most of her wanted to embrace this hope, the alarm bells were well maintained and not easy to demount.  
  
  
  
When Ryan parenthetically remarked that they were running low on water and it didn't “ _hurt to look for some more-edible food_ ”, their first target to scavenge was the supermarket right next to the truck.  
Surprisingly the structure with its big glass front hadn't given in to the earthquakes yet, even though what was left of the windows now covered the parking lot.  
  
Sydney didn't mind too much if she had to be honest, as it granted them easy access to the building and spared it from whatever their attempts to get in would've been (and probably would have caused it to come down after all).  
Obviously having the truck now gave Ryan a “don't mind if I do”-approach to carrying stuff, so he volunteered to carry what looked like at least two dozen bottles of water to the semi and _god damn it, Ryan,_ she fucking _saw_ the diet coke he snuck in along with it, but decided not to comment on it, not begrudging the guy a beverage he was obviously used to after what he had been through.  
(And she gave the coffee boxes a wistful glance while scowling at a pack of ridiculously cheap instant coffee that didn't even deserve to be in the same isle as _real_ coffee.)  
  
Using a shopping cart felt absolutely stupid, so the black-haired resigned to grabbing a few items at a time and bringing them to the truck, meeting Ryan on his water haul a few times.  
Life on-mission for the Army had taught her that a key factor to keeping sane in an extraordinary situation was sticking to traditions and habits as much as possible, which was part of why it was often tried to get soldiers a wisp of Christmas, even when they were in anything but a festive mood.  
Keeping up routines wasn't really possible during war, but during the apocalypse she could at least try, so she interviewed Ryan about things he liked and was used to every time they crossed paths, slowly arranging something that actually would serve as a breakfast, lunch and dinner they _enjoyed_ at the end, hopefully aiding them both in staying positive.  
Frosted Flakes for Ryan, Cinnamon Toast Crunch for Sydney.  
(God bless whatever was left of the modern industry for UHT milk …)  
Decent bread and a couple of spreads they both liked (sadly no power meant no good sandwich supplies).  
Unfortunately there weren't many options that weren't canned in terms of nonperishable food, but Sydney made sure to grab actually good cans of meat and several vegetables.  
If they managed to find a pan in one of the houses around, she'd be able to cook something nice out of it over a fire.  
A few good survival snacks like several packs of nut mixes and apples completed their stock for now.  
  
It still didn't feel right to just _take_ stuff, but what were they supposed to do?  
Sure, Sydney could hunt _in theory_ and she was certain that Mister 'I have guns like a high school quarterback from working a computer' wouldn't be too lousy at it either, but killing animals while she could go get an already dead animal in a can wasn't going to give her a much clearer conscience.  
  
Once they had everything stored away, an unspoken agreement was made and they began walking down the first street of houses to look for one that wouldn't collapse upon entering it.  
The first one which both of them considered “good enough” once more fortunately didn't have a deadbolt, which allowed Ryan to open its door with Sydney's Macy's card.  
  
As she spotted the kitchen just on the left upon entering the hallway, Sydney went off to gather a few cooking and eating utensils they would need, leaving her companion to explore the rest of the house.  
She had just picked up a pan and a pot out of one of the cabinets in the small kitchen, when a distressed “Oh fuck!” from down the hall made her stop dead in her tracks.  
  
Sprinting down the hall, she discovered that the house hadn't been as “good enough” as it had looked from the outside.  
One of the beams supporting the top floor had apparently come down during one of the earthquakes, taking the whole back half of the house with it.  
But as if that wasn't bad enough, a body was lying underneath the debris and had apparently been lying there for a couple of days already, judging by the odors, and Ryan had been the unfortunate one to discover it.  
  
The blond stood doubled over, retching heavily, and Sydney was quick to lead him away with gentle pushing.  
She ditched the kitchen and threw the front door back open, needing to get some fresh air herself.  
Yeah, she'd had to deal with bodies before, but the gases were something she'd never get used to.  
They sat down on the porch of the house, both greedily gulping down air, and Sydney began to rub small circles across Ryan's back, hoping to calm him down.  
“Your first body?”  
  
Her sympathy was heartfelt. Everyone probably came across bodies at least once in their life – after all everyone's grandma dies – but a calm, make-up covered body in a chilled mourning hall was poles apart from someone who had been killed by an outside force and then was left laying around for _days_. It wasn't a necessity in life to ever see one and having gone through the experience several times, she didn't wish it on anybody.  
  
Ryan shrugged.  
“I mean … I've _seen_ a few in the last week. I've seen … _parts_ , but … geez, this is for sure the first one I've _smelled_.”  
She nodded with understanding.  
“Yeah. I've gotta admit that eventually you can get numb to the sight, but the smell – that lasts and it never gets better. To be honest I have no clue how I didn't already smell it when we walked in. Sorry.”  
He forced himself to take a deep breath.  
“It's okay. I mean … not _okay_ , but it's not your fault. I almost ran into it; if I'd been more careful, I would've spotted it more out of … smelling-range.”  
  
  
They ended up abandoning the house completely and, as soon as both felt able to continue down the road, eventually found a building that seemed as sturdy.  
On this one, however, neither of their break-in techniques worked, so Sydney smashed one of the windows and carefully climbed in through it, telling Ryan to just wait for her outside, wanting to limit 'unfortunate encounters' for him to the one he'd already had.  
  
The gent obliged all too gladly, taking a seat on the stairs leading up to the front door, staring down the deserted street with worry.  
This whole situation had just become a truckload more real (and it had already been too real for his liking) and for the first time he wondered if something was even waiting for them where they were going.  
People here were dead and while the science-loving part of his brain told him that there was _no way_ an earthquake could cause this destruction across the whole country, he was starting to believe that science was letting him down here.   
And if, horror of horrors, they would find Austin in the same condition, what was he supposed to do?  


 


	12. The World is a Vampire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it finally, finally is!  
> Jesus, I had so much work stuff coming in between me and uploading and I don't think it'll be letting up any time soon.  
> So you can expect me to upload more often again, but not nearly as regularly as I was ... sometime during the first chapters, I guess. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway!
> 
> x AT

They made their breakfast quick – both not really in the mood to stomach anything after their unappetizing run into the dark reality of the situation, yet knowing that they had to eat to handle what else this day was going to throw at them.  
Unfortunately the 'else' came rather soon.  
As a matter of fact they came to it.  
  
Sydney plugged the right wires back into the ignition and the truck came to life.  
She politely declined Ryan's offer to chance his luck with the semi's stick shift, wanting to let him recover from the horrific last 24 hours.  
The good night's rest they'd had was completely wiped from his features and he hadn't talked much since she had returned from getting them cooking utensils, finding the older sitting on the front steps of the house in an almost _broken_ posture.  
In theory she knew that it wasn't good to let his mind stew in whatever thoughts, emotions and worries were bundled up in it, but she wasn't feeling well enough herself to get him to talk to her.  
  
Everything seemed to be against them.  
Hell, the fucking world wanted to _eat them_.  
It had taken other people's lives and at this point she had to assume that the reason they still had theirs was Mother Nature's simple goodwill.  
It was a gift as evanescent as the sand in an hour glass. At one point it was plentiful, the next second it trickled away.  
For a moment she considered turning the radio back on, but how was the misplaced country music going to help?  
It didn't feel right. Nothing did anymore.  
  
“Ryan, you should probably sleep for a bit.”, she eventually said softly, well aware that she was in no position to tell him to do anything.  
She knew that sooner or later all of this would catch up to him and the least she could do was make sure he was well rested when it would be the case.  
Her only hope was that the worry in her voice would be enough for him to do as she asked.  
It was.  
With a sigh but otherwise completely silent Ryan unbuckled his seat belt, stood and made his way to the back of the truck.  
  
This wasn't the ideal solution and Sydney knew it.  
They both needed to talk instead of letting their feelings boil to a point where the pressure would make the kettle burst.  
In their current status her own fierce temper was probably what would tick them both off and getting him to rest and her some time alone would at least ease the situation a little.  
  
Within minutes Ryan was snoring softly, only audible over the engine noises when she really concentrated on it, leaving the black-haired to her own thoughts.  
One in particular was scaring her.  
So far they had assumed that their hometowns were fine – unaffected, as earthquakes didn't stretch that far.  
Yet, both of of them should be missed, right?  
Under normal circumstances she would have been back in New York two days ago, only having traveled to Washington to meet one of Pete's associates to discuss an upcoming project.  
Ryan had been expected back in Texas even earlier as he'd told her, having been on his way home when the first earthquake hit, turning his layover in Washington into a permanent stay.  
Still nobody seemed to be looking for them.  
Either they thought them to be dead like – apparently – everyone else in the area (honestly, Sydney would've been disappointed in Toby if he'd had that little faith in her) or they were deep in similar shit.  
Both scenarios were horrifying in their own way.  
At the moment Sydney's top priority was to get Ryan back to Austin in one piece – everything else would have to be dealt with once it came upon them.  
  
So it did.  
  
More instinctual reflex than conscious decision Sydney suddenly slammed her foot on the brake – hard, almost sending Ryan flying out of the bed and definitely effectively waking him from his nap.  
“What. The. _Fuck_.”  
Sydney stared bewilderedly at the road ahead and her companion leaped to his feet to join her.  
Neither could really believe what they saw, even less comprehend what this meant for them, for their situation.  
A gigantic rift split the street in front of them and didn't stop there, instead stretching as far as their eyes could see into both directions.  
There was undeniably no going further here.  
With an irritated groan Sydney untwisted the ignition's cables, as the truck had stalled from her harsh brake application anyway, and threw open the door, merely sliding out and landing on the asphalt hard.  
  
Her mind was racing into all different directions at top speed.  
_There is no way across. No way. Trapped. Split. Cut off. No way.  
_ She was dimly aware that she was driving herself towards a panic attack, but she couldn't fight it.  
The truck had given both of them hope, but now what were they supposed to do?  
If they couldn't jump the abyss with the semi, they sure as hell wouldn't be able to overcome it on foot.  
  
She didn't even realize she was on the floor until a warm hand on her back made her open her eyes and all she saw were her hands, crossed so her forehead could rest against them and laid against the pavement. They shimmered wetly from the little light her hair was letting through to them and Sydney realized in dazed astonishment that she was crying.  
She couldn't really feel a pressing reason to be, yet the fact didn't change, so she assumed it to be her body's way to deal with the pure stress which had built up inside her.  
Suddenly the hand on her back slid downwards and a strong arm wrapped around her middle to pull her against a firm chest.  
For a moment the tiny drill instructor in her brain allowed for everything to slip and Sydney took this transient freedom from her own boundaries gratefully, slumping against Ryan and letting him hug her.  
  
Briefly those annoying rules for an emergency flashed in her mind, above all ' _Stay positive_ ', but she didn't find it in herself to do that anymore.  
She was the one with some sort of resemblance of experience with crises.  
She was supposed to be the strong one after the well-on-its-way-to trauma Ryan had suffered.  
She should know what to do next.  
But she didn't.  
  
It seemed like an eternity before one of them found any words to say, and to Sydney's shame it was Ryan.  
“It will be okay. We'll get it … somehow.”  
As much as she wanted to believe him and as much as her tactical, logical side _needed_ to believe him, a gaping rift in their path gave a hint of the lie to his words.  
With a forlorn whimper she stood from the hard ground, stumbling right up to the brink, risking a tentative glance only to find that she couldn't even see the bottom, just darkness.  
“How will we get _this_? Somebody … some _thing_ clearly doesn't want us to come out of this. I know, Murphy's Law and all that shit, but if everything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong, this can only end with us dead.”  
Her entire being was shocked about what she had just said, yet no command to rectify her statement was ever processed.  
Ryan climbed to his feet with an exasperated growl, strutted up to her and gripped her by the shoulders – hard.  
“C'mon, get it the fuck together! If there's no way out of this, what did I get you out of those ruins for? What did you pull me back up for?” His eyes fixed hers angrily, alternating from left to right. “You're not someone to give up like that. That's not the Sydney I dug out of that hotel. That's not you!”  
  
He was right.  
This wasn't her.  
Usually the Sydney way was to keep going and going and _then_ risk to eventually get hurt.  
Premature surrender wasn't in her repertoire.  
  
“You're right.”, she whispered as if in awe.  
She found that she was a tad too short to peak over his shoulder, so she gently pushed past him and stared at the truck, a plan coming together in her mind.  
“Left or right?”  
“What?” Ryan's determined expression changed to one of frank confusion.  
“Left or right? - Decide.”, the black-haired demanded impatiently, already almost shaking with her new-found zest for action.  
“... right?”  
A single nod from her confirmed his choice and she climbed back up the truck's driver's side, sliding into the seat and waving eagerly for him to get in as well.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” Ryan huffed, slightly out of breath from deferring to her wishes, once he was seated next to her, noticing that she was already starting the semi.  
Sydney smiled wickedly at him and that's when he knew she was back. “Flipping off Murphy's Law. 'Cause that's who I am.”  
With that she floored it and steered the truck – much to Ryan's relief – not towards the rift but alongside it; to the right, like he'd chosen.  
Thankfully, the desert terrain was nothing but flat for miles, promising their off-road ride – however long it was going to be – to only be a _little_ bumpy.  
  
When he looked over at his companion, Ryan sighed deeply, thankful for the engine swallowing that soft noise.  
Even after only knowing her for a matter of days, he knew that along her fighter side, he had also revived Sydney's side designed to hide weaknesses.  
He couldn't help but feel incredibly sorry that she had even had to develop such a side in her life, feeling the need to come across as strong even in the most extraordinary situations; ones he usually only experienced in video games (and only in those with adventurous plot writers).  
Her sudden breakdown had shown him how she really felt inside and while he admired her capability of putting on such a thick mask, he still couldn't endorse it.  
They depended on each other out here and he knew she needed rest as much as he did.  
And hey, if she could boss him around, who was he to keep that one-sided?  
  
“You know, I think you should let me drive for a while, get some sleep.”  
Although he wanted it to sound like an off-hand suggestion, they probably both knew of the concerned sternness he had hidden in it, which was probably the reason why, even though he could basically see her need to rebel and wave him off lie right on the tip of her tongue, she complied silently, slowing the truck to a stop and getting up to let him take the wheel.  
Of course Ryan wasn't necessarily happy about having to do the driving now, especially until they'd get to the next road, but Sydney had let him have rest earlier, obviously trying to be easy on him, so he figured he owed her the same.  
  
Sydney all but collapsed on the bed, relishing the way her back was suddenly able to relax.  
On her way there everything inside her had reared up because of her choice not to fight Ryan for once, but now even the loudest voices were shutting up, leaving her mind deliciously blank for the first time since … well, honestly since all of this had started.  
And she needed it to be, she knew that.  
A lack of action invited thoughts to roam and fears to creep up and she had just gotten her control back. She couldn't afford another slip-up.  
Whenever she had let it happen in the past, someone had taken advantage of it and thus of her, and while she didn't think Ryan would do such a thing, the world would certainly exploit it in his place.  
Somebody was always there to exploit it.  
  
“Hey, how's that knee treatin' ya?”  
Ryan's surely well-intentioned solicitude brought colorful thoughts and emotions swirling back onto her white canvas, making her scrunch up her face slightly.  
She hadn't paid her knee much mind during the day, her focus on everything else but that.  
Just now it came to her what unhelpful strains she had put it through once more, above all kneeling on the pavement, and when she tested the joint carefully, she wasn't overly amazed to have it throb in protest.  
In theory she probably should have treated it with her salves again right now, but no cell in her body reported the capacity for that much movement, so she decided that rest would have to do the job and underplayed it.  
“It's fine. Not really a bother anymore.”  
  
God, Ryan could taste that lie and wanted to call her out on it so badly, finally make her respect her own body's limits.  
Some part of him, however, argued that maybe something as trivial (and he hated the world for making such a serious injury suddenly so utterly _trivial_ ) as a hurt knee, especially while they had a set of wheels, maybe needed to be put off both of their lists for now, taking a few pebbles from the rocks on their backs.   
So he left it alone.  
He couldn't say that he was entirely resonating with that decision, but at this very moment it seemed like a blessing to at least ignore one problem.  
This was only shoveling the sand away from the hole. Of course it would slide right back in soon, as sure as day turned into night, and eventually they would choke. 

 


	13. You'll catch me and I'll catch you

A completely out of place smell pulled Sydney from her sleep, causing her to sit up to look for its origin.  
Even though the interior of the truck was rather dark, she was able to make out that they were parked somewhere and Ryan was gone.  
Frankly Sydney hoped he had something to do with the delicious smell of fried chicken and some kind of vegetable she couldn't really identify, so she got up, quickly slipped on her shoes and left the driver's cabin, immediately wincing when the considerably colder air outside hit her skin.  
She saw her companion sitting by a decent campfire in a safe distance from the vehicle – and yes, thankfully cooking something – and for once _carefully_ climbed off the semi, paying attention to any warning stabs from her knee after she had lied to Ryan earlier.

  
“Hey.”, she greeted lamely and joined him on the sizable rock he was sitting on, then let her gaze drift across the wide plain and the surrounding mountains.  
This didn't look like the South of Idaho and the terrain gave her an idea of where they might be, but she really hoped she was wrong.  
“Oh hey, you're awake! Just in time. I thought I'd cook some dinner and I'm pretty sure it's done.”  
Ryan carefully took a pan with the chicken Sydney had already smelled and a pot with mashed potatoes away from where he had placed them on stones in the fire and put them on the ground in front of them, then picked up two plates and filled them, handing her one after he was done, along with cutlery.  
  
Sydney thanked him quietly and immediately dug in, moaning softly at the taste.  
It was the first real meal she had had in almost a week. It wasn't haute cuisine of course, but _God,_ it was warm and that was enough.  
“Good?”, Ryan chuckled after taking a bite himself and Sydney responded with another moan.  
  
After that they ate in silence for a few minutes; time which Sydney used to gather the courage to ask the inevitable question.  
Had the rift really been big enough to throw them this far off course?  
Were they as far off course as she feared?  
She had to ask.  
“So … where are we?”  
While she tried to sound casual, she was almost certain that she failed.  
Ryan gave her a careful side-glance, adding to her apprehension of the worst.  
“Northern Nevada.”, he mumbled and Sydney visibly deflated. “The rift ended a few miles ago. I was hoping to make it to Winnemucca, but it got too dark.”  
  
For a second Sydney allowed herself to be upset about this.  
This eradicated almost the complete headway they had made.  
This fucking sucked.  
But what use was there in breaking down again?  
They had to keep going until either they reached their destination or something stopped them once and for all.  
There was no in between here – no amount of whining was going to help.  
  
“Okay.”, she finally settled on, as calmly as she could. “How much fuel do we have left?”  
“About 50 gallons, I think. If we're lucky, that'll get us to Salt Lake City, which is just a few hours down the I-80 from Winnemucca. And then we have four 5-gallon-jerrycans. That's maybe 150 miles extra, depending on how much that thing”, Ryan pointed at the truck behind them over his shoulder, “swallows exactly.”  
Sydney gave that a thoughtful nod. “So after that either we have to find more or we're back to walking.”  
A boyish grin spread across Ryan's face. “You know, something tells me you might hot-wire another car for us.”  
_Ooh,_ so now he was back to teasing. That was a multiplayer game.  
“I might just do that ...”, she drawled carefully, already making the man suspect she was up to something, “or … _I could swipe your chicken!_ ”  
With lightning-fast fingers she snatched a piece from his plate and made it disappear in her mouth.  
Ryan stared at her in mock offense.  
“You're so dead. I'm eating _all_ of your Cinnamon Toast Crunch!”  
_Gasp._  
“Don't you dare touch my Cinnamon Toast Crunch!”  
“Maybe I already touched your Cinnamon Toast Crunch!”  
During their pseudo fight their faces had gotten closer and closer to each other, now close enough that they could have bitten off the other's nose.  
But they didn't do that.  
Instead they burst out into massive fits of laughter once again.  
  
Yes, Sydney should probably have been worried about their sanity. Especially during the last two days they had gone through extreme lows only to joke around and laugh their asses off right after.  
It had tendencies of borderline really, but maybe they were allowed to fall apart a bit.  
Maybe they could grow just a little insane.  
And maybe she appreciated the laughs.  
  
  
  
“I'veway eenbay oingday isthay everway incesay Iway asway ittlelay. Ou'reyay onnagay oselay, Aywoodhay. I'mway ellingtay ouyay.”  
“Onay ayway. Ou'reyay onnagay ewscray itway upway irstfay!"  
“Ouyay inkthay ou'reyay oinggay otay astlay enthay?”  
  
Okay, _now_ they had officially lost it.  
Sydney didn't quite recall how exactly they had gotten there, but they were in the middle of a hardcore Pig Latin fight, which only one of them would emerge victorious from.  
  
“Ouyay etterbay lievebay itway, Orterpay!”  
  
“Lievebay?!”, she echoed incredulously. “That would make what in English? _'Blieve'?_ You fucked up!”  
“What? No, I didn't!” Yet Ryan carefully mouthed over his words again and realized that _yes,_ he did. As soon as the insight showed on his face, Sydney raised her arms in triumph.  
“Ahay! Iway amway ethay Igpay Atinlay astermay!”  
“Yeah, yeah, you're the Pig Latin master. You're the master of talking like a nutcase.”  
The black-haired pouted exaggeratedly at that.  
“You think we're nutcases?”  
Ryan's left eyebrow made a show of shooting up towards his hairline, effectively answering the question, which hadn't been meant very seriously in the first place, without words.  
  


Somewhere along their shenanigans they had also managed to finish their dinner, both actually sticking with their own plate after the previous incidents- _Sydney, stop it!_ , so they were now lying back against the rock, indulging in trivial talk about technology, video games, game releases they were going to miss because of this crap (or game releases which wouldn't happen now – who knows).  
Not much of the information they exchanged stuck with Sydney and she doubted it was much different for Ryan.  
It was a simple chat to give their brains something to process while they tried to kill time until it was late enough to go to bed.  
Their voices were a welcome noise to drown out any new fears trying to bubble up and she could say that she enjoyed the quiet companionship which had formed between them tremendously.  
  
Stars were slowly beginning to speckle the night sky and time was probably approaching a point where they could think about going to sleep (so they'd stick to a normal sleeping routine, she had explained to him), yet neither moved.  
Despite their personal demons they were both still determined to keep going and eventually reach their goal. They would have to pick each other up again and again along the way; that was clear to both of them, but there was something inside them still strong enough to be able to face that challenge.  
Just … not now, alright? At least not for a few minutes.  
  
“It's weird, huh?”, Sydney suddenly spoke up, successfully catching Ryan's attention even though he had been thinking. “How everything is going to shit down here, but up there nothing changes.”  
“Yeah. Well, that's how insignificant we are. I doubt that much which could happen on this planet would ever affect the universe. We suck too much for that. Uranus doesn't care.”  
A giggle escaped her lips. “Uranus is a bitch then.”  
Ryan shook his head with a clear pinch of amusement in the action. “Oh no, I'm not getting pulled into Uranus jokes. I'm above that.”  
The mischief was basically rolling off of her in waves now. “You mean your anus isn't getting pulled into it?”  
“You know, I know some guys you and your sense of humor would get along perfectly with.”, Ryan groaned, not totally managing to actually sound annoyed.  
“Is that so?” By now Sydney reveled in at least getting a faked rise out of him. The gentle bickering between them reminded her of her relationship with Toby and this notion of familiarity eased her mind profoundly. “Like that Ray guy I apparently sound like?”  
  
It was a risk to bring up Ryan's friend again, still she was curious and hoped their currently relaxed situation would get him to just talk about the people he cared about without much relation to their worries.  
The grin which appeared on his face thus was wonderful to see.  
  
“Oh yeah, you'd fare with Ray very well. The Italian and the Puerto Rican. You could be Team Minority Report.”  
Sydney's mouth fell open. “Wow, that was _so_ offensive. I'm impressed. Now … that Ray guy. He's Puerto Rican, into video games, obviously got an _amazing_ sense of humor (Ryan merely huffed at that complacent statement) … Tell me he's hot and I'm in.”  
What came from Ryan next sounded most like choked gulp and when she looked over at him, she barely caught him rolling her eyes at her.  
“Like I'm going to judge that. And sorry to disappoint you, but the kid has got a girlfriend.”  
“Kid? What age are we talking about here?”  
“He's 25.”  
“Ugh, gross. Next time tell me in advance when I'm about to become a child molester.”  
  
  
  
Settling in for the night worked a lot less awkward for them this time around than it had on the previous day.  
After they had put out the fire, they retreated into the truck, both rather unceremoniously kicking off their shoes as well as shedding their jackets, and Ryan lay down on the still too small bed, holding out his arms in an offer of the sleeping position they had made out to be the one working for them here.  
Sydney briefly considered lying down with her back turned to him again, but that didn't really sit right with her after the open, chummy chat they had had (and honestly; if she would at some point fall out of the bed, it would hurt significantly less this way), so she mentally shrugged and lay down facing Ryan, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arm around his waist to have an additional anchor.  
The other one followed almost immediately when the older locked her in his arms in return, efficiently tethering them together.  
  
When Sydney checked her mind for objections to her decision, absolutely zero came up – much to her surprise.  
Her whole body was at peace, even this close to her companion.  
Maybe, she mused, this was because she had finally allowed herself to just depend on him, to _need_ him, in the way she de facto did.  
Just for once she could only gain from a man, not lose. They could only win together. If they lost, it would be 'game over' anyway.  
And it seemed that he felt the same, because neither of them even commented on their proximity, leaving it alone, letting it happen, and after they had exchanged their good nights, both eventually drifted off.  
  
  
  
_Thump!_  
Maybe her precautions had spared Sydney's nose, but the back of her head started throbbing painfully when it hit the floor of the driver's cabin.  
She was about to just climb back into bed, preparing to mock-scold Ryan the next morning for letting her fall, when she heard a distressed murmur coming from him.  
“N-no … Sydney … Sydney, pl-please … please help me. … Please ...”  
_Oh no …_  
The black-haired picked herself up quickly and frowned when she saw the gent.  
His hair was stuck to his forehead with cold sweat, his features distorted in what could only be fear, and his hands were fisted into the thin sheet covering the mattress hard enough for his knuckles to have turned white, making her wonder how he was still asleep.  
At the exact moment she reached out to hopefully wake him, Ryan started from his sleep with a full-body jerk, almost knocking their heads together with the sudden movement.  
  
Just slowly the panicked man took in his surroundings, realized that whatever had upset him this much was gone, and when his eyes came to rest on Sydney, he let out a heart-rending sob.  
Instantly she moved to sit on the bed next to him, pulling him into a gentle but reassuring hug.  
“It's okay, Ryan.”, she promised softly. “It was just a dream. You're safe.”  
She continued to repeat this simple information over and over, not caring for how long, until the man in her arms slowly calmed down, resting against her wearily.  
“I … I fell.”, he finally mumbled. “You couldn't catch me.”  
The sob which threatened to sound was choked down by him, causing his entire body to tense momentarily.  
“This is what I was afraid of. Falling dreams.”, Sydney told him truthfully. “There's not much we can do about them. I know they suck fucking balls. I'm sorry.”  
“They suck a lot of balls.”, he complained sulkily, which caused the other to chuckle despite the circumstances.

 


	14. If not now, then when?

Ryan couldn't fall back asleep that night and Sydney didn't really blame him.  
Hardly surprisingly she didn't feel very tired anymore after his nightmare, so she chose to keep him company, despite Ryan's vehement protests about at least one of them needing sleep.   
She knew that if she tried, it wouldn't be very restful.  
So here she was, sat on the ridiculously small trucker bed with her back leaned against the cab's wall, Ryan's head in her lap.  
Her fingers were gently carding through his grimy hair, twirling the dirty-blonde strands absent-mindedly.  
“I'd kill for a shower.”, he mumbled lowly, getting Sydney to chuckle.   
“Ditto. The next body of water I see I declare my personal bathtub.”  
Sydney's own black hair was filthy to the tips by now and she felt utterly disgusting, the only thing keeping her from curling up somewhere in a ball of shameful greasiness being Ryan's quite similar state.  
  
The night was bright and clear, giving the outside world an artless sort of innocence.  
With the starts sparkling chastely, the moon shining blamelessly, who would ever expect something bad to happen?   
Sydney knew it wasn't reliable anymore and it scared her.   
As if it wasn't bad enough that she had trust issues already, the very planet had lost her faith.   
What was there left to trust in?   
Except …   
She looked down at the idle man in her lap.   
Why did he get to be the exception?   
It wasn't like he particularly deserved it; fucking asshole getting paid for playing video games.   
( _Bet your mom's damn proud of her little 'professional gamer'_ , her mind threw in sourly.)   
  
“What?”, Ryan demanded to know out of the blue, his eyes remaining closed.   
“What what?”  
“You're staring at me.”  
Oh and of course he could see through his freaking eyelids. 'Professional gamer' instincts, probably.   
“Well … your face is weird.”, Sydney retorted, probably applying for the 'Smoothest attempt to hide one's embarrassment at getting caught ever' award in that moment. (They really needed an abbreviation though.)  
The man frowned sulkily. “Oh thanks. … I swear, sometimes you are out for bickering between us.”  
“I can't help it!”, she defended herself. “You're just too much fun to annoy, Ry!”  
“Ry?”  
  
Sydney hadn't even registered the nickname leaving her lips before he echoed it.  
It had just tumbled out as if it had been natural and it left a familiar taste on her tongue.   
_'Tobes'  
_ She'd stand by it.   
  
“Don't make me make it RyRy.”  
An indifferent huff signaled her victory.   
“As long as you don't call me Ryebread.”  
Briefly Sydney entertained the idea of letting him know that telling her _not_ to do something would not end in his desired outcome, but then simply stored the nickname away for later usage.   
“Who the hell calls you Ryebread?”  
At this he cracked one eye open to peer up at her. “Only people with a death wish do.”

The underlying threat wasn't lost on Sydney and she decided to bite.   
“Okay then, RyRy.”  
RyRy turned to lie on his side and groaned into her thigh.  
  
The night seemed to crawl on, the stars barely moving across the sky.   
There were lengthy periods of silence between the two travelers, only ever interrupted when one of them shot out a question about something they suddenly wondered about the other and the answer sent them either into another teasing match or short pseudo-philosophical discussions.  
  
“So … you with anyone? Is there a Mrs Cowfucker?”  
Sydney's question was fairly innocent, just out of curiosity, and the last stretch of quietness had started to bother her.   
Ryan seemed to take it as simple as it was and chuckled softly.   
“No. Not currently – unless you count diet coke, people would probably say now. … What about you?”  
“Nah, been single for a while now. I haven't been with the best people exactly. And Toby's scared away all the others.” A fond smile curled her lips. “If you are seen with a 29-year-old in Heelys, guys either think you're way older than you look and dragging your dead beat son outside or taking your brother with special needs for a walk.”  
A soft musing sound came from the man. “Tell me about it. I have my fair share of people whose company I'd rather not be in sometimes in public.”  
“The _Lads_?”, Sydney questioned with a knowing grin. He'd told her about them during one of their idle exchanges of information; two young men named Michael and Gavin alongside Ray completing the _“younger and allegedly wilder”_ half of Achievement Hunter ( a name which, by the way, still sounded like it belonged to a gay nerd boy band to Sydney).  
“If only they were the worst of it.”, Ryan sighed. “You should meet drunk Geoff.”  
Sydney hummed questioningly.   
“Geoff?”  
Blue eyes peered up at her through the darkness.  
  
It was even darker this time, but _blue_ , still goddamn blue.   
Whenever the color stood out to her, it seemed to be in the most random moments.  
She had yet to make sense of it.   
  
“I haven't told you about Geoff?!”  
The black-haired shook her head with a clueless expression, which Ryan groaned to.   
“He'll kill me if he finds out I've told you about _Ray_ first. Geoff's our boss – or at least that's what he claims. To me he'll always be the mean old bitch who makes me play too much Minecraft. ”  
His boyish glee while basically insulting his boss gave Sydney quite a hunch of how things in the Achievement Hunter office probably went and what his friends meant to Ryan.   
“You love him.”, she teased with a grin, tapping his nose.  
The gent raised a hand to swat hers away.  
“Shhh. Don't let him hear that. Shit like that gets to his head.”  
  
  
With the first rays of sunlight Sydney gently shoved Ryan's head off her lap and moved to the driver's seat.   
“Hey now! I was napping there!”  
She didn't give him an answer and instead bent down to start the engine.  
Ryan got up from the bed and stretched until his back gave a series of satisfying pops.   
Lying down the whole night without any hope for sleep had left him incredibly stiff, he noticed, and what he had just called 'napping' had maybe been resting, with enough fantasy.  
The point of being tired was just out of reach and from experience he knew it would be replaced by foggy fatigue, the kind that made your limbs feel like lead, for the rest of the day until he'd find enough ease of mind to sleep.  
While it didn't seem to be much different for Sydney, she barely acknowledged it and if it wasn't for the dullness to her eyes and the bags under them, Ryan would have had trouble believing she had stayed up with him last night.   
  
  
  
The way down to Winnemuca took them close to two and a half hours due to Sydney's careful driving, adapted to her weariness, the twilight and the condition of the road after the earthquakes, which – apparently – had stretched down all the way to Nevada, too.   
Nowhere did they see any signs of life.   
Winnemuca, too, was a ghost town and Ryan winced at the bad 80s symbolism when the only thing they met on the road was a tumbleweed.  
The intact houses were hopelessly abandoned and he made sure not to look at the collapsed ones too closely, in shameful fear of seeing more bodies.  
  
As they were good on supplies, they had no business here and frankly he was very glad about it.  
There was a certain melancholy about these empty cities even without them knowing what had actually happened and it gave him the creeps to linger in one for too long.   
  
Both sighed in relief when they reached the I80 heading east towards Salt Lake City, some tension leaving the interior of the truck.  
While the lonesomeness of the highway wasn't much better than the one in the city, at least it was … _possible._   
Sure, it was rare to have the road all to yourself and certainly not a sight people from New York or Austin got to see like … _ever_ , but it could happen, at least theoretically.  
It was a situation to hide in, if anything, a small island to rest on, to regain some sanity.  
  
As uncalled for as ever last night's dream came back to Ryan.   
Slipping from Sydney's grip, her shocked face being the last thing he saw, before he …  
Of course it hadn't been real, it was a dream, but what had stopped it from being real?   
Luck.  
  
On the horizon two cars came in sight out of the blue.  
At first Ryan gasped.   
Maybe this was it, maybe they could finally find other people, but the closer they got, the more obvious it became that these cars were as desolate as everything else.   
They were placed on the street as if they had just been involved in an accident and the large dent in the blue sedan's co-driver's door along with the other vehicle's right headlight shattered and spread over the blacktop confirmed Ryan's suspicion.  
  
“See,”, Sydney spoke up as she maneuvered the truck around the cars, “this is what I don't _get._ ”  
She glanced into the side mirror, as if to make sure they really hadn't imagined them.   
“That must have happened when or after the first earthquake hit or the cars would have been taken away already. And if that's the case, then where are the drivers?”  
Ryan searched for a logical explanation, an answer to her question.  
Finding none, he sighed deeply. “I don't get it either.”  
And that was the end of that.   
Neither of them addressed it anymore, but he was sure it didn't leave either of them alone.   
It was another ill-shaped piece in this weird, fucked-up jigsaw, where none of the pieces seemed to fit.   
  
  
They were going through a town not too far from Salt Lake City when suddenly Sydney groaned in resignation and lifted her hands from the steering wheel.   
“Yup, we're out of gas.”  
Ryan startled from where he had been staring out of the window.   
He had paid neither the gas nor the way nor the time any mind, so her announcement came as a surprise to him.   
Sydney had stopped some time ago to add their spare gas to the tank, but he couldn't remember how long ago that had been.   
“Are you sure?!”  
“I mean ...” Sydney made a show of repeatedly flooring the accelerator, yet the truck continued to slow down.   
_Well, great._  
  
So they were stuck here for now.   
West Wendover was a decent-sized desert town, exactly what you would imagine to find at the Nevada/Utah border.   
There were enough houses for them to find one they could easily break into and some of the cars looked old enough (at least to him) for Sydney to probably be able to hot-wire them, but he had a nagging feeling telling him the odds wouldn't be in their favor this time.   
  
  
They soon found a house not far from where they had had to leave the truck, breaking into it with something almost feeling like routine – a fact that probably would have worried Sydney on any other day.  
But now they silently carried enough of their resources to last them the day into the house and stored them in the kitchen, both feeling tremendously out of place in yet another house belonging to someone else.  
  
Sydney flopped down on the couch in the living room, kicked her shoes off and was about to pull her knees to her chest when her right knee reminded her of how it would rather not, so she sighed in annoyance at the still tense joint and instead stretched out over the length of the piece of furniture.  
Ryan entered the room not much later and lifted her legs with one arm to make room for himself like it was the most natural thing in the world before sitting down and placing them on his thighs.   
They hadn't said much more than a few words to each other since they had run out of gas and the taste of this silence was a bitter one.   
  
Ryan had his head leaned back and his eyes were closed, yet she could tell he wasn't sleeping.   
What they needed was a day off, a day of things not being so overwhelming, but her instincts were telling her to get outside and find any goddamn way to get moving again.  
“We _need_ today off.”, Ryan suddenly spoke sharply, as if he had read her thoughts.   
She groaned. “I know! Geez, I do. It just bothers me.”  
His left hand blindly searched for her bad knee and started rubbing it with careful pressure.   
“Your knee can use it and so can our nerves. Please, just for a day.”  
 _God,_ he sounded tired. And hell, she was too.   
What he was doing to her knee felt amazing in the most annoyingly relaxing way and she supposed that as they were safe nowhere, they might as well be unsafe here for a while.   
“Alright.”  
  
  
  
The rest of the day had a surprisingly _normal_ -feeling quality to it.   
Sydney was stunned to realize this was only the fifth day they were spending together. It honestly felt like at least weeks with how they were bantering, chatting, making up stupid games to kill time. She felt comfortable around Ryan and was beginning to accept that this comfort was going to stick around for as long as they'd stay together probably.  
And it was going to be fine.   
  
Eventually going upstairs, they found a bedroom with a decent double bed, both immediately falling onto the quite hard but incredibly welcome mattress.   
It was mere minutes until they fell asleep.   
  
  
  
When she woke up the next morning, Sydney – much to her personal frustration – found herself clutching Ryan.   
She quickly observed, however, that this time it wasn't because of her body doing stupid stuff while she wasn't around to control it.   
_It was fucking freezing!_  
The warmth Ryan's body emitted was barely able to mask how cold the room had become.   
  
A bad, bad sense of foreboding filled Sydney like ice water.   
_No. Oh no, it couldn't._  
Trying to get up was useless, as she found Ryan clinging to her just a much, his arm around her waist keeping her from wiggling out, so she shoved at his shoulder a couple of times.   
“Ryan! Ryan, wake up!”  
“...uhwhat?”  
The man sleepily blinked open his eyes, blushed when he noticed how close they were and immediately took his arm away.  
Sydney didn't waste time with any explanations and instead rushed to the window to hopefully prove her suspicion wrong.   
But it wasn't.   
“Oh fuck my life!”

 


	15. Baby It's Cold Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much shorter than my usual chapters, but necessarily so. Hope you enjoy anyway!  
> (At least it's a quick resolve of the cliffhanger!)  
> x AT

“This is bullshit! How is that even possible?!?”  
Ryan, stood by Sydney's side, shook his head.  
He was at a complete loss. This _wasn't_ possible.  
Sure, people talked about global warming all the time and things were getting out of hand, but this was a bit … more than that.  
When somebody mentions Nevada and Utah, one of the first words probably coming to mind is “desert”. “Snow” would probably be among the last.  
Yet here it was.  
And not just a little of it.  
Looking down the street to where they had left the truck, he bewilderedly noticed how he could only see the top halves of its wheels, meaning they were dealing with at least 12 inches here.  
  
“We shouldn't have stayed here.”, he whispered, bitterly realizing that this was his fault.  
Without something to tie her down, Sydney's energy would have made her go outside yesterday to find _some_ way to keep going and they might already have been out of Utah by now.  
Sydney sensed his distress and made sure to rid herself of any anger meant for nature, not him, before talking to him.  
“Yeah, we shouldn't have.”, she agreed. “But c'mon now; you couldn't have known.”  
Her gaze swept over the perfectly flawless white blanket covering the outside world and she laughed helplessly. “Heck, I don't think a meteorologist would have known. Ryan, you're our voice of reason. You've gotta be, because I know I'm not. You were right, we needed rest. It just happened to have a bad timing. Shit happens.”  
That at least got him to smile. “You really aren't our voice of reason.”  
He took the inevitable revenge punches in stride.  
  
  
Still the snow stacked up quite a couple of problems in front of them.  
Walking was not going to happen. They wouldn't be able to get far anyway and if they ended up having to spend a night outside … well, earthquakes sounded like a nicer way to die.  
If any of the old cars even would have caved to hot-wiring yesterday, the cold made Sydney not even want to bother trying them today. Their batteries were guaranteed to be dead.  
And _Christ,_ was it freezing.  
Without power there were no heaters, no warm showers, _heck_ , no showers _at all,_ and the house had neither a very good insulation nor a fireplace (not that it needed one in Nevada).  
They needed the rest of their resources from the truck and unfortunately those weren't going to come flying to the house.  
  
“We're gonna regret this, we're so gonna regret this.”, Sydney kept chanting as they were gathering the courage to open the door.  
_This_ _was gonna suck!_  
And oh, it did suck.  
Sydney's boots weren't made for this kind of weather and Ryan's weird dad shoes … she didn't even want to talk about _those._ Neither his jeans nor her cargo pants were much of a barrier between them and the snow, so they were freezing in less than a minute as the result.  
“I feel the regret now.”, Ryan called from behind her, from the sound of it struggling a little less than her with lifting his longer legs through the snow.  
When they reached the truck and got inside, Sydney groaned at seeing how much they had to carry.  
“Ugh, why didn't we bring a bag? We suck!”  
“We do suck.”, the older agreed with his hand sympathetically laid on her shoulder before getting to work.  
  
They ended up taking several treks through the "white death", as Sydney soon started to call it, and were only too happy when with every trip they plowed a better path into the snow, making all walks to follow a little easier.  
Nothing beat the happiness Sydney felt when they were finally able to slam the door shut, however, both shaking at this point.  
Almost immediately she saw worry distort Ryan's features. “Your lips are turning blue.”  
Surprised she reached up to touch her mouth, yet her icy fingertips were unable to let her feel how cold her lips were, so she simply huffed.  
“I'm the least cold-resistant thing I've ever come across. Drop the temperature by ten degrees and I'm already on the brink of a kidney inflammation.”, she not quite fully joked.  
Her tendency to get cold easily was something that had annoyed her many times before in the past.  
Women in the Army were the butt of jokes now and then, but keeping up everyone at night because your teeth are chattering was sure to turn you into an object of hatred.  
Toby, he himself never having been bothered by low temperatures, found it just too amusing, refusing to close windows if she asked him to, but – of course – then letting her snuggle up to him to keep warm.  
Asshole.  
  
“Looks like these have to come off then.”, she announced, beginning to pull down the zipper of her pants – only then did Ryan's – _Ryan's, shit, shit, shit, not Toby's –_ kinda choked “Uhm ...” get her to realize that _holy shit, what are you doing, this is not Toby._  
Her hands awkwardly hovered over the hem of her pants while simultaneously she felt her cheeks heat up.  
_Oh yeah, Sydney Porter, Queen of Embarrassment. Well done, there you went._  
There were exactly two directions to move now: Try to fix this somehow and imperatively make it worse or … yolo it.  
“Fuck it, I'm cold.”  
With a quick motion she pulled down her wet pants and stepped out of them, genuinely hoping Ryan wouldn't be offended by this audacity and just think it to be part of her persona (it was, just not really with taking off her pants in front of a guy she had known for less than a week).  
Thankfully she was wearing quite “covering” black panties, nothing as embarrassing as a thong.  
She bent down to pick up her pants, then jerked her head towards Ryan's with a smug smile.  
“You should take yours off, too. You're gonna catch a cold.”  
If he hadn't been blushing before, he definitely was now, stuttering out a perplexed “Uh … what?”.  
With one broad step she was right in front of him, which was why she now had to look up at him quite obviously.  
“If you keep on wet, cold pants, you're gonna get sick. You should take them off.”  
Sydney saw his hesitancy and the slight uncomfortableness with what she was suggesting, yet the urge to keep up with her cheekiness seemed to win.  
He clumsily unbuckled his jeans due to keeping eye contact with her, then pushed them down.  
The black-haired made an effort not to look until he bent to take his pants off all the way, but when he did … _yup, white boxer briefs. Of course._  
  
She went to the living room, focusing hard on not moving her hips too much to not make things worse (she liked teasing Ryan, but she had her limits), and curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket lying on the backrest on top of her lower body.  
“At least share.”, came a growl from her left and before she knew what was happening, Ryan was sat at the opposite end of the sofa, his legs stretched out next to hers under the blanket.  
“Grew a pair of balls on the way here, Haywood?”  
_And_ the teasing was back. Lasting a whole 40 seconds was probably a record.  
But of course Ryan wasn't going to lack behind. “Not as big as yours for sure.”  
Not able to gain much leverage because of their proximity, Sydney's answering kick to his leg was weak, but as soon as their skin connected, her eyes widened.  
“ _Dude_ , how the hell are your legs that warm still?!?”  
That was just unfair! Yet she'd use it to her advantage.  
“Good metaboli- _fuck, Sydney! Holy,_ how are you feet that cold?!”  
Her legs were now in between his, her feet pressed against the insides of his thighs cheekily.  
Hey, they already were under one blanket without pants on. The damage was done and she was cold.  
“I'm sorry.”, she drawled dramatically. “Us people with normal metabolism do get just a little chilly walking through snow in thin boots. Now shut up, you're warm. _At least share._ ”

 


	16. Hello from the other side

A gentle hand on her shoulder and the smell of _oh my God, is that chocolate? w_ oke Sydney from a nap.  
Immediately on the hunt for that sweet, sweet goodness, she snapped open her eyes and _Jesus lives!_  
There was Ryan, but that was beside the point really, because in his hand he had a mug and yes, the contents were steaming.  
Sure, there were questions Sydney needed to ask; how the hell he had managed to heat something, for example, but that had to wait. Only one thing was important right now.  
  
“Is that hot chocolate?”  
“Ye-”  
“ _Mine!_ ”  
With that she snatched the mug from his hands, taking a gulp straightaway, merely sipping from it seeming like an insult to the wonderful, smooth liquid descended from heaven.  
Yeah, it burned her mouth, it really did, but it was worth it, alright? No pain, no gain.  
And _God_ , the cup was toasty and felt incredible against her cold fingers.  
There was just too much _amazing_ about this to care about blisters on her tongue.  
Her quick moan would have to be enough to inform Ryan about this, because anything else would have left her not drinking for too long.  
  
He chuckled and picked up his own cup from the coffee table, taking a more sophisticated-looking sip. “I was gonna ask if you like hot chocolate and want some, but I guess that's my answer.”  
Sydney nodded enthusiastically over the brim of the porcelain.  
She was going to have to ask eventually though, so she reluctantly lowered her drink.  
“How did you make this?”  
Ryan shrugged. “Found chocolate in the kitchen, searched for a lighter, made a fire.”  
At that, her eyes widened. “In- _side?_ ”  
He looked at her, raising his hands nonchalantly, like it was not a big deal at all.  
“I did it in a pot and opened a window ...”  
“Which explains why it's even colder in here now. Well done, Ryan.”  
While she wasn't actually mad in him (but mad at the cold, Jesus Christ), some part of her just couldn't stop poking that mischievous fire between them and something inside him couldn't help but bite.  
“I can make that hot chocolate disappear just as quickly as I cooked it, you know ...”  
Now that was a threat that worked. Sydney brought the mug back up to her lips in one swift motion and spluttered something that sounded like “Stand clear, Satan!” around a mouthful of chocolate.  
  
  
  
At some point during the next day, Ryan found his companion in the kitchen, standing on her tiptoes to peer through the window in the back door, leading to the yard.  
When he asked what she was doing, Sydney turned around to him with a face full of epiphany.  
“They have a _well_ , Ryan!”  
“... so?”  
“A well means _water_ , Ryan. And water means we can _wash,_ Ryan.” She nudged him with her hips playfully. “You _stink_ , Ryan!”  
He swallowed a comment on how he wasn't the only one who wasn't exactly smelling good, thank you very much, and instead focused on her suspect plan.  
“So you want to go out there, get water and then what? It's bound to be freezing!”  
“I fill the tub upstairs and let it sit. It'll be cold, sure, but maybe I'll heat up some pots of water over a fire.”  
She said this like it was the most obvious thing to her, so Ryan, having learned that most of the time she knew what she was doing, left her to it and trotted off to the living room.  
  
It was about an hour later when he saw her on her 19th trip up the stairs with the bucket the well apparently had contained and every single one had broken his will just a little bit more.  
The fact that she was wearing his jacket over her hoodie (and had not asked for his permission, but he'd let it slide) was barely helping and he was sure that in one or two more walks she'd turn into an icicle.  
When she came back downstairs, he finally cracked and stopped her from going outside again by bodily blocking the door.  
“Your ass is in the way, Haywood.”  
While this was probably meant to sound threatening or be an unspoken command, it just sounded pathetic with Sydney's nose already stuffed-up from the cold and her voice sounding raw from breathing in the icy air.  
Ryan held out his hand to her. “Give it here.” He rolled his eyes at her raised eyebrows and added: “You're going to get sick if you keep doing this until the tub is full – if you're not already sick. Give it here; I'll get the rest.”  
She was going to argue, oh yeah, he saw it in her eyes, but then suddenly her expression softened like a melting ice cube.  
“You sure?”  
“Well … if you help me fill it again afterwards.”  
“Of course there's a catch.” She had her hands on her hips but smiled. “Deal.”  
  
In the course of Ryan filling the tub, Sydney heated as much of the water as she could over small fires in pots.  
(“This looks like a very bad Breaking Bad rip-off.”, Ryan declared when he walked in on her.)  
Eventually the water was at a temperature which didn't have her teeth chattering when she only stuck her hand in.  
Going through the wardrobe in the bedroom, she found that the lady of the house – thankfully – had a pretty similar taste in clothes and about the same size as her, and happily discovered a pair of thick sweatpants, a fluffy sweater and (hallelujah, praise the Lord) fuzzy socks, eager to put on a change of clothes after the bath.  
The guy's clothes weren't too bad either; the pants were definitely going to fit Ryan, though she was sure that his broad shoulders were gonna stretch the pullovers she saw.  
She picked the most comfy-looking stuff for him and wordlessly pushed the bundle into his arms, before taking hers to the bathroom.  
  
Using a stranger's bathroom was decidedly very weird, going through their wardrobe and wearing their clothes took it a step further, but taking a bath in their tub was definitely the icing on the cake.  
The water was still anything but warm, but it felt like a spa to Sydney, distinctly better than the sensation of her dirty clothes on her skin, and for the first time in days she was able to relax a bit.  
Unfortunately the water wasn't really warm enough to do anything for her knee, but the last two days of rest had helped tremendously (19 trips up the stairs hadn't) and it was now merely throbbing weakly when she put weight on it.  
The only good thing about the goddamn snow was that her knee would probably be fine again by the time it melted enough for them to leave.  
  
But how much longer would that take?  
Without a weather forecast that was a thing of guessing, hoping to see less snow each morning.  
Until then they were stuck here and that was always a tricky thing.  
People who were isolated together without much distraction quickly tended to snap at each other and Sydney knew her partly Italian temper made her especially easy to set off.  
She liked Ryan and she didn't want to fight with him, but with enough time in this small house together, it was eventually bound to happen.  
  
Sydney emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head, knowing her long hair would take some hours to dry.  
Her transitional clothing had a comfortable fit like she had expected and was definitely gonna do until she could be bothered to wash her own clothes with the well water.  
God, she was a spoiled first world brat, but she missed electricity so badly.  
Washing machine, dryer, warm water, oven, video games, _coffee machine_ …  
She was way too used to these things.  
  
Getting themselves to fill the bathtub _again_ for Ryan's turn was a piece of work and Sydney only toned down her bitching about how her hair was still wet and she was _now_ going to get sick when she remembered her earlier worries about causing a beef between them.  
In light of this newly found wariness, she heated up some of the water without being asked to and even laid out some towels for him.  
If she couldn't prevent an argument, at least she could put in some good deeds she'd be able to make precedents with later.  
She needed him.  
  
  
  
There really wasn't much entertainment around the house – at least not without power.  
The books they found on the shelf in the small office upstairs were all an insult – cheap, crappy romance novels and other boring stuff – and Ryan was particularly done with them when he discovered a copy of “The Catcher in the Rye”, a book Sydney had heard of but not read (something he advised her against doing, too).  
As they couldn't find a battery-powered radio either, music was also off the list.  
This left board games. And Sydney wished it didn't.  
She always tried her best to not lose sight of the old classics, definitely choosing paperbacks over things like the Kindle, but 'Chutes and Ladders' or 'Ludo' just couldn't keep up with 'Far Cry' and 'The Last of Us', alright?  
To cap it all, they only found the king of annoying board games – Monopoly.  
“Oh heck no!”, Sydney groaned when she pulled the box from underneath the coffee table.  
“AC/DC Collector's Edition?” Ryan took the game from her hands and flipped it over. “That's a _thing?_ ”  
“It gets better.”, she warbled, producing another three boxes. “Adventure Time Collector's Edition, Metallica Collector's Edition, … _oh Christ,_ Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Collector's Edition. Ryan – these people are _nutcases._ Who the hell collects Monopoly editions?”  
To her surprise he shrugged.  
“Look around. What else are they supposed to do in a town like this? It's either collecting Monopolys or sex.”  
At that she turned around to face him – a full 180 degrees.  
“Interesting hypothesis. Elaborate.”  
From the change in his expression she could tell it was just in this moment that he realized who he was with and that it wasn't one of the other Achievement Hunters.  
“Uh … I mean ...”  
If the way he blushed right there wasn't cute, Sydney didn't know what was.  
  
  
  
Five days into their solitude Sydney was really beginning to feel the first wisps of going insane.  
Without noting down the date every morning, she was sure she would have no idea what the date even was.  
Speaking of … what _was_ it again?  
Did it matter?  
They had nowhere to be, no time to be on, no deadlines to meet.  
Everything that happened happened to both of them, so there were no news to share, no “How was your day?”.  
“How is the weather?”, however, was still going strong. In fact, it had become a running gag. - “Shitty.”  
They had burned through every possible conversation while not digging into personal life any more than the other was comfortable with.  
The most recent attempt at _doing stuff_ had been talking about any secret talents they had.  
_Holy shit,_ of course Ryan could juggle. It just fit. Yeah, mommy must be real proud of her professional gamer and circus attraction.  
(God, she was getting _bitter._ This was bad.)  
  
Not talking was bad.  
It left them to their thoughts, those vicious 'what ifs', and it felt like a disturbance if either one of them decided to speak up.  
They kept a fair distance from each other, keeping their fears and worries about their loved ones to themselves and not wanting to intrude into the other's.  
Once more, Sydney felt alone.  
The only fellow human around wasn't more than a slightly more mobile decoration, like lonely leaves twirling in a soft breeze.  
It brought her back to the early dark days, being locked in her room for days on end, alone with her mind.  
She wasn't scared when the voices came. She knew she wasn't schizophrenic – it was her mind making up for the lack of interactions.  
And maybe that was the problem; every voice still belonged to her. There were no different personalities, no strange opinions.  
It was a dull placebo, but one she had seen through. It didn't have an effect anymore.  
Young Sydney had been content with retreating into her head when she had to, but that wasn't enough for today's Sydney.  
  
It took time – another four days – for her to figure out what is was she craved.  
Why, she didn't know.  
Really, the answer was so easy; it had been the same answer for a long time.  
Only when she stood in front of the bed, shivering despite the warm sweater, did it finally get into her stupid, thick pig head.  
  
While Ryan was fast asleep, it didn't look very restful.  
His brow was furrowed, a hint of sweat making it glisten in the little light the setting sun let in.  
A nightmare, surely. They had been getting more frequent for both of them.  
Frankly, she wasn't sure if the nightmare ended once they woke up.  
This had to end.  
And she knew that the problem had always been her. Some people had had a little bit of an easier time, but she had been a problem to all of them.  
It had to stop.  
  
Slowly, carefully, she crawled on the bed and shifted as close to Ryan as she could, before lifting his arm and placing it on her hip, cuddling up to his chest and wrapping her own arms tightly around his middle.  
She held her breath when he stirred, counting the seconds it took him to realize what was going on – 17.  
“Sydney?”  
The word sounded foreign coming from him. She hadn't heard it in days.  
But it held something.  
Surprise, a lot of surprise, curiosity, hope, nervousness, worry.  
When she finally allowed herself to breathe again, she started checking each sense.  
  
She could hear his heartbeat – a little quick but hard, confused.  
She could still smell the god damn perfume from that weird pink bottle they had found in the bathroom within the fabric of his pullover; he had put it on to amuse her – it had worked.  
She couldn't taste anything – her mouth was dry, anxiety having drained it the second she had stepped into the room.  
She couldn't see anything – her eyes were closed and she knew that if she opened them, all she'd see was the dark blue pullover.  
But she could feel, alright?  
She felt how tense he was, trying to make sense of her behavior, asking himself if he should do something and _what._  
  
Finally it slipped through her lips; soft and quiet, yet firm, definite:  
“I missed you.”  
And really, she would have been fine with leaving it at that.  
It was probably one of the biggest steps she had ever made in her life; accepting that she was actively pushing others away and deciding to do something against it.  
So it came as even more of a surprise when only seconds later his arm pulled her just a little bit closer and she heard his reply, as faint and clear as hers.  
“I missed you, too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy o boy, I did /not/ expect this to take the turn it took in the middle.  
> It was supposed to be a fun compilation of little 'moments' they have while being stuck in the house, but somehow this still feels right. (And I'm a little proud of Sydney, too.)  
> Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!
> 
> x AT


	17. Devotion

The two of them became inseparable over the next days.  
Sydney wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but her barriers were completely gone.  
Absolutely no worries came up whenever she was close to Ryan and most surprisingly this fact didn't upset her at all.  
There wasn't much more being spoken, but it didn't matter. They actively searched for contact with the other; whatever they did, they did it touching in some way.  
Most of the time it was them lying on the couch or the bed, Sydney using Ryan's biceps or chest as a pillow, or he had his head in her lap.  
If a conversation came up, they appreciated it and went with it, but if there didn't, it was just as okay.  
  
It was the 13th day in the house, when they finally gave in to the books.  
Sydney, as always eager to annoy Ryan, picked “The Catcher in the Rye” off the shelf, despite his not fully staged cries of discontent and his futile alleged “attempts to save her innocence”.  
(“Ryan, knocking it out of my hands over and over is not gonna stop me.”)  
Long story short – she didn't like the book either.  
Holden was an absolutely ridiculous character to her, lame and whining about it.  
Fuck you, J.D. Salinger.  
  
They went about their days, eating together, bathing again (and it was still great), trying to find the most hilarious plots of the books (one late night, Sydney taught Ryan how to play the dick game, which replaced all nouns in sentences with 'dick', and they laughed like the seventh-graders they were inside) and checking what the snow was up to each morning.  
When it had finally, finally thawed to a point where the streets were accessible again one evening, after it had rained on the previous day, the travelers reluctantly went outside to look for a car to hot-wire and (hopefully, as they were running out of resources) a convenience store.  
If the cold had killed all the cars' batteries (and it had, there was no doubt about that after how long they had been stuck inside the house for), they weren't magically going to come back to life, so they'd have to bump-start one.  
Sydney hadn't really told Ryan that hot-wiring a car while bump-starting it wasn't exactly going to be easy and she definitely hadn't mentioned that he was going to have to do all the pushing, but … he would notice eventually, right?

  
After just over an hour, they were about ready to give up.  
They were both freezing, even while wearing several pullovers and their jackets, and there just weren't any cars that would work for them.  
Sydney cursed America's laziness.  
Most cars they came across were too new to hot-wire and whenever they found an old one and got their tiny, fragile hopes up, of _course_ it was an automatic, which were almost impossible to bump-start, especially while also hot-wiring them.  
In fact they were already on their way back, when Ryan pointed at a station wagon down the street.  
“Did we check that one? Looks old.”  
And old it was!  
While she didn't want to cheer yet, Sydney was delighted to see the huge car, identifying it as a '66 or '67 Ford Country Squire once they got closer.  
Hot-wiring it wouldn't be a problem, if now just … _please, please, please._  
“ _It's a manual!_ ”, she close to squeaked after anxiously peering through the driver's side window.  
Fate: Protects fools, little children and … okay, the first two already included Ryan and Sydney.  
And it meant well for them this time, as the car wasn't locked.  
Briefly Sydney wondered why; if maybe the owners had been about to flee from here but had been … hindered, but she couldn't allow these thoughts.  
  
She helped Ryan push the car onto the street (shit, this thing was _h-e-a-v-_ y) before getting in, taking apart the dashboard to get to the ignition's wires.  
Once she had it all ready to start, she put the car in second gear and gave Ryan the go-ahead to start pushing.  
At first she was afraid the car wasn't going to move at all, huge and heavy as it was, but then it started rolling, slowly gaining speed.  
As she wasn't sure if Ryan would appreciate any rooting, she kept quiet, waiting for the right point to pop the clutch.  
“Are you gonna start this thing any time soon?”, Ryan shouted, already sounding rather exhausted.  
They weren't really going at an ideal speed yet, but Sydney decided that she might as well give it a try, hoping for the forgiving transmission of the sturdy car to have mercy on them.  
She popped the clutch, the Ford giving a harsh jerk, almost catching but not quite there.  
Ryan groaned. “Are you kidding me?!”  
“Stop whining and keep pushing, before we lose too much speed!”, she shouted back. Even though she understood that Ryan wasn't keen on doing this any longer, she had felt the car had _wanted_ to start, just a final push missing, and letting up was not something they could afford here.  
They needed a car and they needed it badly.  
  
Ryan braced himself against the Ford's tailgate once more, working hard on quickly gaining speed again.  
It was frustrating, really, how while he felt he was going at his absolute full speed, it translated onto the car as fast walking speed – at most.  
His lungs were burning because of the cold air, barely seeming to get enough oxygen to his muscles, and he wasn't sure if he was good for another try if this one would fail, too.  
He cursed himself for even spotting the car. He had seen how huge it was, what the hell had he been thinking?  
Suddenly the Ford jerked away from him, almost making him slip on the icy street, and then he heard the engine cog to life.  
_Oh thank goodness …_  
Sydney had stopped the car just a few steps away from him, its old motor puttering contently, so he jogged over to the co-driver's side, getting in.  
He knew he'd wanted to say _something_ , but it was most effectively wiped from his mind when suddenly his companion was almost in his lap, her lips meeting his for a chaste peck.  
  
_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!  
_ What the hell had she been _thinking?_  
Once more Sydney had just trusted the ease she felt around Ryan, tricking her into forgetting that he decidedly was _not Toby,_ whom she pecked on the mouth regularly.  
It was a brother-sister thing between them. This however …  
_Oh shit, fuck, crap, fuck, fuck._  
She felt herself blush and decided that she had to de-awkward this right the fuck now, knowing that it probably wasn't gonna work.  
“I – uh … good job.”  
Of course! Of course _this_ was what her useless brain came up with.  
Ryan simply smiled, though a slight blush was evident on his cheeks as well.  
“Glad we did it!”  
Bless him and his eloquence!  
It didn't seem like he was reading anything into the kiss, at least she didn't think … And there wasn't anything to read into it, anyway! She just hadn't thought before acting – like she always did.  
  
  
  
All they found in the desert town was a small convenience store, thoughtfully called 'Food Mart', but it would do.  
They stocked up on resources, which even without the truck wasn't a problem. Actually, Sydney was quite sure the giant Ford's trunk alone provided more room than the semi's driver's cab.  
Just before leaving the store, she came across a box of cheap brand coffee and made the decision that she really deserved this now, after those endless days of being trapped.  
It wasn't gonna be any good, since all she had to brew it was water heated over a fire, but it was caffeine, dammit, and she deserved it.  
  
As Sydney was afraid of the car giving up on them, she left it running once they got back to the house, and the pair settled on having fifteen minutes to get ready.  
Whilst Ryan went upstairs to do who knew what, Sydney hurried to the kitchen to make coffee and actually find some time to enjoy it, too.  
It ended up being dishwater more than anything else, but this meant she could drink it black (or … brown, really) and have that sweet, sweet caffeine rush.  
Her nerves appreciated it greatly, because apparently she couldn't stop screwing up stuff, even now that she was so at ease around Ryan.  
Cruel as ever, her mind brought up his face after she had kissed him again; blue eyes wide, his eyebrows raised comically, but … smiling.  
There was something about him, she had to admit, something that _worked_ with her just as well as Toby did.  
Such a quality was rare, most seldom actually, and it intrigued her just as much as it scared her.  
It was a powerful trait, which she had no control over.  
  
When Ryan entered the kitchen, she was surprised to see his jaw, which had grown an almost decent beard during the last couple of days, covered in a neatly trimmed stubble, and let out a low whistle.  
“I see you tamed the beast, Haywood.”  
He brushed his thumb and index finger over his facial hair.  
“Yeah, I figured I should do it now, before we hit the road again. Did I do it evenly? I feel like I always get it lopsided when I only use a razor.”  
Well shit.  
That required her to look at him closely, which she had rather not done at least for a couple more hours.  
She examined his face, inevitably getting reminded of how his stache had tickled her, even with how short the kiss ( _peck_ , her conscience insisted) had been.  
It looked shorter now, not necessarily better, but he was presentable.  
Not that there was anybody around for him to be presentable for, of course.  
“Looks fine.”, she eventually told him and after a pause and another lack of thought quietly added: “Didn't mind the beard, though.”  
At that he grinned, sitting down at the other end of the table. “Is that so?”  
God, that god damn grin. She wanted to wipe it off his fucking face, just grab him and …  
“Yeah, I liked it. Made you look … rough.”  
“Oh, you like it rough? I should let it grow back, then.”  
Yep, he was enjoying this too much.  
“I'mma show you _how_ rough I like it, if you don't stop grinning like a smug asshole, Haywood.”  
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table to support his chin with his palms, a glint in his eyes.  
“Oh please do.”  
If he had expected anything but getting kicked under the table here, he was sadly mistaken.  
  
  
  
Soft, even breaths told her that Ryan had finally fallen asleep.  
While the last couple of days had been easy and quiet, his nightmares had been acting up again, often enough making him wake with a start in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, leaving her to hold and calm him.  
Sydney was content to drive through the dark, having managed to turn on the Country Squire's headlights, and it was a good time to grant Ryan some of the rest he had been missing out on.  
Salt Lake City was still a solid 100 miles ahead, but the tank had about 10 gallons in it, which would even get them a little further.  
  
Finally they were once more set for the time being.  
Those periods were always short, destined to end soon enough, but they were calming to her nonetheless.  
Her knee had officially healed, the bruising gone along with the pain, and she allowed herself to be a bit positive about things.  
Sure, problems were already piling up again: Once this car ran out of gas, they would either need to find more or a new car.  
But Salt Lake City was a big city and they were sure to come across _something_. They'd make things work.  
  
Even in the darkest of times they had each other. The weeks stuck inside that house had proven it.  
Sydney had been stunned to see in her notebook earlier that de facto they had only spent 16 days there.  
It sure felt like a lot more and well … maybe it had been more.  
Not time-wise, mind you, but interpersonally months had passed, a year, maybe.  
In the end she had to be honest with herself and the truth was simple.  
She cared about Ryan. A hell of a lot so.

 


	18. Stars Shine Brightest

The sun was just starting to rise when Ryan woke up, bathing the interior of the Country Squire in an eerie red light.  
Sydney was curled up on the driver's seat, her position looking rather uncomfortable.   
He was feeling the effect of sleeping in the seat already, his neck and back unpleasantly stiff, and already missed the cushy bed back in West Wendover.  
Lying against the cold, hard door also wasn't the same as pulling Sydney close, cuddling up to her and enjoying her warmth (while staying the hell away from her feet, because those were damn icicles!).   
He had really gotten used to that over the last days.  
  
A glance out the window told him they were definitely parked somewhere in Salt Lake City, the buildings leaving no doubt about it.   
According to his watch it was just past 8AM and while that time really made him want to go back to sleep, he knew he had slept for too long already to be able to do that.  
  
Finally leaving West Wendover had laid a certain ease over his mind.   
While there were still problems ahead, also no doubt about that, (after all there was snow here, too!), right now the unknown was more welcome to him than the limbo of being stuck and having nothing to do.   
Additionally it was calming to be back in a city. Sure, Salt Lake City was nowhere as populous as Austin ( _But which city_ is _populous right now?,_ he thought sourly.), but it felt safer.   
They had supplies here. They wouldn't lack anything.   
Like a gunshot the memory of pulling Sydney out from underneath that hotel came back to him.   
No, the city wasn't save.   
Suddenly he saw them running from death in between collapsing houses again.  
They couldn't afford to stay here for all too long.  
  
He felt like they had made a big step towards each other.   
And hey, all it had taken was almost going insane!  
She was an odd one, for sure.   
Vastly intelligent, beautiful, damn cocky … - yet there were some scars on her back and arms that neither of them addressed, moments when she talked to him but simultaneously seemed to look right past him, times when some part of her seemed to be missing, leaving her as not the woman he had gotten to know.   
Ryan turned his head to look at her.   
She seemed tired, mostly, and cold, judging by how tightly she had curled up, her knees actually touching her chest.  
As quietly as possible he took off his jacket and covered her with it.   
It probably wasn't much, but he wasn't very cold himself and knew from the past weeks that she had a hard time finding restful sleep when she was cold.   
  
In retrospect they should have grabbed some blankets before leaving, but once they had gotten the Ford to start, both had been rather eager to get out of town, foregoing any thoughts about possible smart things to grab.   
Oh well, it probably wouldn't matter in a few hours. There were plenty of houses around and while there were some signs of the earthquakes here too, the buildings seemed sturdy enough, he hoped, and they wouldn't have any problems finding one to break into.   
  
Sydney stirred and for a brief moment Ryan was afraid he had woken her up, but cracked a smile when she reached up to where his jacket lay on her shoulder to pull the garment tighter around her body without waking.  
He wished he could figure her out.   
He liked being around her, he liked caring for her and he liked her caring for him.  
It hadn't been quite that way from the beginning, but when had it changed?  
Frankly, he didn't care much. Things were nicer this way.   
They just _worked_ as a team and he appreciated having her a great deal.   
Carefully he reached out to swipe his thumb over Sydney's forehead, brushing her hair out of her face, and only pulled his hand back once he was satisfied with his work.  
  
  
  
“Breakfast” consisted of some questionable bags of dried fruit and orange juice straight from the jug and – at least time-wise – was more of a lunch.  
The few hours of rest hadn't done that much for Sydney, Ryan could by now easily notice, but she seemed to be cheerful anyway, roaming through the streets alongside him with her back straight, nice chit-chat flowing easily between them.  
It didn't take them long to find a suitable house – a small one, looking well-loved. While that wasn't an attribute usually given to houses, that was exactly the vibe it gave Sydney.  
Just when they had reached the door and were about to figure out how to open it, a stern voice sounded behind them:   
“Now you two be good 'n' put your hands up. Slowly.”  
Both of them froze.   
A soft click sounded behind them and while Ryan hadn't heard it in real life for years, he knew it from years of _too_ realistic video games.   
He carefully glanced over at Sydney and her expression confirmed his suspicion that _yes,_ that had been the safety catch of a gun being taken off.  
  
Sydney put her hands over her head in a fluent motion, Ryan following her example hesitatingly.   
“Who are you? Bandits?”, the voice demanded to know, clearly a man.   
Ryan looked at Sydney again, hoping that she'd answer. It wasn't that he was afraid to, but she probably had more experience in negotiating with people like this.  
“I'm Sydney, he's Ryan.”, she stated in a calm voice. “We're just survivors, trying to get back home.”  
“And where's home?”   
There was resentment in the stranger's voice, but at least he seemed willing to listen.   
“He's from Austin, I'm from New York.” Ryan clearly saw her consider what she was going to say next, as if she was gauging if she even was in a place to ask any questions. “There are Bandits?”  
“Enough of 'em to be a bother. Gone fucking crazy, those people. So you say you're not one of 'em?”  
Sydney shrugged. “I don't think so? We've been breaking into buildings and took stuff, but only enough to get by. Wouldn't call us bandits.”  
“Haven't met any then either, huh?”, the man grunted.   
“No. You're actually the first person we've met since _this_ started. … I did hope it'd be a more friendly encounter.”  
“Bold words for a girl who was about to break into my home.”  
That caught Sydney's attention.   
“We didn't know the place was occupied, sorry. All others we came across weren't. If you let us go, we'll be out of your hair on the spot.”  
The safety of the gun audibly clicked back on and Ryan had to put a lot of effort into not letting the tension leave his muscles all at once.  
  
They both put their hands down and turned around slowly, neither having expected the sight of an elderly man, heavily leaning on a walking cane in his left hand, while his right lowered the gun he had been aiming at them.  
“You truly aren't Bandits.”, he spoke, sounding certain.   
“What makes you think so?”, Sydney asked in return and Ryan wanted to yell at her because _what the hell, Porter, he's letting us go and you-_  
“They don't say sorry.”  
  
  
  
The man, who introduced himself to them as “Walter. Walter McGrane, if you have to know, but does it matter?”, invited them into his house rather hospitably.   
However, Ryan would probably have had an easier time accepting, if he hadn't done it by waving the hand which was still holding the gun towards the door.  
The choice was taken from him when Sydney simply followed the guy, causing him to have to trot in after her.   
Yes, she was an odd one.  
  
Walter made them sit down on a corner bench in a rather homey-looking kitchen, half of the piece of furniture already occupied by a monstrosity of a dog.   
“That's Miss Ellie.”, their host informed them when Ryan sat down by the canine's head, while Sydney seemed quite content sitting next to him, out of Ellie's immediate reach. “She's a sweetheart. Ain't bitin' nobody unless I tell her to.”  
Okay, that wasn't really Ryan's definition of 'sweetheart' per se, but the dog, likely a Mastiff (going by what he knew about dog breeds big enough for Gavin to probably be going to ask if he could ride them), seemed cool enough about the strangers in her home, so he started to gently pet Ellie's enormous head.   
  
“So these Bandits ...”, Sydney spoke up when Walter turned to the sink, lit a fire in it like nobody's business and cracked open a window for some ventilation, “What's the deal with those?”  
The old man grunted in annoyance.   
“They're maniacs. They think this is the god damn apocalypse so they refuse to be helped by the military and be brought to those shelter zones. Building little groups in order to survive away from everyone. They steal like fucking seagulls, more than they'll ever need. Wanna be prepared for whatever shit they think is gonna be comin'. I reckon they have some settlements. One's up in Brigham City, I heard. They wanna be on their own, attack people on sight. Doggone maniacs, I tell ya.”  
That was a whole lot of information to process, so Sydney decided to just work through the list.  
“The military is helping people? We haven't seen their asses anywhere.”  
Walter snorted. “That's because they're now sitting on those asses in the shelter zones. They've been out to get people to the shelter zones in the first few days, but took only those they came across and who easily complied.”  
“So why didn't you go?”  
At that the man turned around and gave her a look an adult would give a small, uneducated child without any clue about the world.   
“To do what, girl? Look at me. I'm old, I'm tired, I'm sick. I'd be a bother to people trying to bring this country back to its feet.” He turned back to the sink, filling a pot with water from a bottle and setting it on a stand over the fire. “I've got Ol' Miss Ellie here and we don't need nothin'. I've got a garden, see, and I've got my chickens and my cow. Ellie and me, we're self-sustained. We ain't botherin' anyone and don't wanna be bothered. So I had Ellie shoo away those military clowns.”  
  
A certain wave of sadness washed over both travelers.   
While Walter seemed content and certain about staying here, without anyone but his dog around, … was this really a way to live … or at least spend your last years?   
He snapped them out of it suddenly by grumbling a deep: “Now stop pulling ugly faces, kids; I feel like I'm better off than you two at least.”  
This remark actually got both of them to laugh, because _hell_ , he was right.  
Walter at least had certainty, while all they had was each other.   
  
“So you've come in contact with the Bandits?”, Ryan asked, talking to the older man for the first time.  
“Well well, looks like the boy's got a voice too – who would've guessed!”, Walter laughed half-heartedly. “Come in contact with them I did. They wanted my chickens, those bastards. Pretty sure Miss Ellie bit off one of the guys' fingers. The other one I shot in the foot. Didn't come back since then.”  
Sydney snickered. “Understandably so. Looks like you and Ellie can handle yourselves.”  
She liked Walter. He reminded her of her grandpa; gnarly and rough on the outside, but with a tremendous amount of love for the people and things he really cared about.  
“Oh, we sure can.”, the elder affirmed, setting the pot of boiling water on the table in front of them. “Now, I hope you kids drink tea, because I haven't come by any coffee.”  
Had she been a dog, Ryan was sure Sydney's ears would have perked up.  
She had whined about wanting coffee earlier, but both of them had been too lazy to make a fire and heat water.   
“Oh, I have coffee!”, she exclaimed eagerly. “It's in our car, a street over. I'll go get it!”  
Ere either man was able to say something, she was whooshing out of the door.   
Miss Ellie lifted her head slowly at the sudden movement, but, upon deciding that it wasn't worth it, rested it back on Ryan's thigh.   
  
“Golly! That's one whirlwind of a woman if I've ever seen one!” Walter sat down on a chair at the opposite end of the table. “Should she be having coffee?”  
Ryan's laughter about his remark came from the heart. “It doesn't seem to affect her much. And she whines about caffeine less when she gets coffee.”  
The other man nodded in understanding, at the same time mustering Ryan intently.  
  
Sydney was back in no time, panting heavily while slapping her box of coffee on the table, then collapsed into Ryan's lap, splaying her black hair over Ellie's head, which the dog didn't even seem to notice.  
“I got the coffee.”, she unnecessarily announced, yet Ryan affectionately patted her head.  
“I'm proud of you, kiddo.”  
She almost jumped up, hitting his arm with enough force to make Ellie growl at her in defense of her new-found pillow. “Stop it, Ryan! I'm only five years younger than you!”  
Walter picked up the pot and the coffee to go and brew it.   
“I don't know who the hell thought it'd be a good idea to team up you two, but they sure have a good sense of humor.”  
  
  
  
Walter's small house only had one spare room he was able to offer them, but Sydney was quick to assure him that it'd suit them just fine.  
Ryan didn't find a reason to disagree – after all they had been closer than just sleeping in the same room before.  
Once they had said goodnight to their host and entered the small but cozy bedroom, Sydney made a bee-line for the window sill, sitting down and staring up at the large moon.   
Much like Austin, Salt Lake City probably didn't get to see much of the stars at night. They were there, sure, but the city lights took away from them.  
Ryan hadn't been to New York and then out during the night often enough to tell, but he guessed that stargazing was even harder to do there.   
He sat down at the other end of the sill, giving the breathtakingly bright stars only a short look before settling on Sydney.   
Truth be told, he didn't need to stargaze anyway, because they were all there, reflected in Sydney's dark eyes as she watched the night sky, illuminating the brown of her irises.  
“It's beautiful.”, she whispered without averting her eyes and Ryan had to bite back a comment he'd later regret, instead settled on a simple “Yeah, it is.”  
She sighed, long and wistful.   
“We have to discuss how to go on, don't we?”  
  
Did they?   
What gain was there from deciding tonight? They wouldn't leave at least until the morning, he knew that.   
Right now they had _this_ , a quiet moment, a happy moment, and he decided that it was one they could afford to keep up for a bit, if just for tonight.   
  
“Nah. It can wait until tomorrow. Let's just … watch.”   


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as the new episode of Shenanigans showed us, Ryan isn't AS much of a picklock as I made him out to be, but ... oh well, the tendencies are there.   
> And who REALLY believes that test lock was the first he's ever picked? Exactly.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed Old-Sap-Haywood in this chapter!  
> (Also yay for finally meeting other humans! Not EVERYONE is dead!)
> 
> x AT


	19. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So something's been a long time coming and here you finally go!

_Oh God, I've made a mistake._  
That was all Sydney could think about when she came to, a pain in her back and legs more than evident.  
She opened her eyes to find her face pressed again the glass of the window.  
Oh great, Past-Sydney always had to fuck things up for Future-Sydney, didn't she?  
Trying to roll over and get off the window sill, she found a solid, warm presence against her back and underneath her, and looked up.  
  
_Aw no._  
Yup, that was Ryan, and the poor guy was even worse off than her, having fallen asleep sitting up against the window frame, his neck twisted to the side in an odd angle, while she apparently had ended up in his lap at some point.  
With an annoyed groan she started poking Ryan's stomach – the only part of him she could reach.  
He lifted his hand to swat hers away with a mumbled “Stop it”, but then let out a pained sound instead.  
“Ouch, … what the hell-?”  
The sight of Sydney's twisted body in his lap and her plaintive look probably would have been a funny one, had it not been for the ache in his … well, everywhere.  
“Ugh.”, he grunted. “Why are our decisions always so problematic?”  
  
When Sydney began to rant about how it had been him to say that “Nah, we're not gonna fall asleep, just a few more minutes” and these things were always his fault anyway, Ryan decided that _oh no_ , it was definitely way too early and his sleep had been way too uncomfortable to deal with her Italian temper running wild right now.  
He hooked his arms under hers and pulled her up so her back was against his chest, wrapped one arm around her torso, covered her mouth with his free hand and then stood, bodily dragging her over to the bed.  
Sydney was too stunned by this to properly react, so wrestling her onto the mattress wasn't much of a chore.  
He didn't let go of her once they were lying – instead he just pulled the duvet over them and cuddled her tight.  
When she spoke, it was muffled by his hand, but he still understood the indignant “What the fuck, Ryan?!?” and had a hard time not to chuckle.  
“Shhh, I wanna sleep.”  
“Let go of me, asshole!”  
She said this, but didn't squirm in his grip anymore, so he figured he was okay.  
“Nah, I don't think so. Someone's gotta hold your feisty Italian temper down now and then.”  
He tucked her head under his chin and removed his hand from her mouth. “And now shut up. It's sleepy-time. It's still dark out.”  
Sydney relaxed in his arms,  
“I hate you.”, she sighed.  
“I don't think you do.”  
  
She didn't.  
She had mostly been surprised by his sudden burst into action, the ease with which he'd gotten her to the bed.  
(She liked to think she wasn't the shortest woman around and not a pixie either. While she kept telling herself it was muscle mass, pure muscle mass, it was most likely her inherent affinity for pizza and pasta.)  
Now, upon lying on the bed, she just felt incredibly warm and safe.  
It was this unfamiliar feeling which she still expected her body to fight, but it didn't.  
And that felt good.  
Soft snores sounded from behind her, making her smile.  
Ryan had not been kidding about sleepy-time, apparently.  
  
  
  
They woke to the smell of eggs and toast and _ugh, real breakfast_.  
“Do you think he's gonna share with us?”, Ryan asked, his ear pressed to the door, as if he'd hear the answer in the hallway.  
“He seemed like a pretty generous host yesterday – I mean _after_ he wanted to kill us. I think it's worth a try.”  
With that and without any more discussion, she was out of the door and Ryan, once more, had no choice but to follow her.  
  
At the bottom of the stairs, Walter was already waiting for them.  
“Ah, there ya are. Thought you love birdies would sleep all day.”  
Sydney almost chocked.  
She started to stutter out a “Uhm … we're not ...”, but Walter was already limping off to the kitchen, shouting: “You kids better be hungry!”  
_Awkward, awkward, awkward, awkward.  
_ She was blushing beyond her control, she could fucking _feel_ it, and she couldn't even bring herself to look at Ryan to see his reaction.  
  
The breakfast was good – God bless chickens and their delicious way of reproduction – but quiet.  
Ryan avoided eye contact with her the two times she dared to look at him and they basically only talked to Walter, not to each other.  
She didn't know why these two simple words had hit them like such a bomb.  
Walter probably hadn't even meant anything by it, had just wanted to tease them, yet they acted like awkward teenagers whose parents had caught them kissing.  
  
Sure, she liked Ryan.  
He was special, because she felt comfortable around him. She didn't automatically flinch back from his touches.  
And yeah, he was attractive in this non-blatant way and definitely her type, but heck, so was Toby and there hadn't been anything between them for 12 years.  
They weren't acting like love birds! They were constantly bickering!  
If anything, they were love-hate turkeys.  
  
When Walter announced that he'd go feed his animals, both of his guests tensed.  
Almost immediately and definitely at the same time, Ryan offered to come and help, while Sydney proclaimed she'd do the dishes in the rainwater tank outside, like she had seen Walter do the day before.  
For a second the old man's gaze danced between the two of them, an amused glint in his eyes, but then he just motioned for Ryan to follow him, the gesture apparently also summoning Miss Ellie, who jumped up from the bench with Ryan and trailed after them.  
  
The task being rather arduous for an old man like himself, Walter had Ryan climb into the chicken coop and strew grain about for the fowls, which were rather excited about the situation.  
A few minutes of Ryan making quips at some of the meddlesome chickens passed before Walter chuckled softly.  
“You're kidding yourself, boy.”  
Ryan turned around to him, still holding some grain, just when the rooster flew up to pick it directly from his hand.  
“Huh?”  
“She looks at you the way the caged bird looks at the key. And you ain't any better.”  
His cheeks became hot and Ryan turned away again to hide his blush, suddenly very interested in the rooster sitting on his thumb.  
“We met barely three weeks ago.”, he muttered, trying to sound defensive, yet realizing that he wasn't denying anything.  
“So?”, Walter huffed. “You haven't been apart a minute for those three weeks, have ya? Pretty sure that's more time than I've spent with my ex-wife in 8 god damn years!”  
“Well I guess there's the reason she's your ex-wife then!”, Ryan retorted, getting angry.  
What did this guy know, anyway? He'd know them for a day, that was it.  
Walter shrugged. “I think it was more the fact that she screwed Rich from next door. Hope the bastard didn't make it through the quakes. Would deserve it, for sure.”  
That left the younger man quiet.  
  
After a minute, which Ryan spent petting the rooster, Walter spoke again.  
“I don't blame ya, y'know. She's a pretty one, your Sydney; nice chassis. If I still had my license, you bet I'd take a ride.”  
Something snapped inside of Ryan, making the rooster take to its heels.  
Sydney Porter deserved a lot of things; mostly a muzzle.  
What she didn't deserve was someone talking about her like that.  
  
Ryan stalked back to the chicken coop's gate and pushed through it, towering above the older man.  
He wouldn't hurt him, of course, he was above that, but he at least deserved a little intimidation.  
“She isn't an object.”, he whispered, yet his voice was dripping venom. “She's damn intelligent, probably more than I'll ever be and definitely more than _you_ could ever dream of. She fought her way across several states with me while having a hurt knee. I've seen her kick in doors with that knee! Her parents – apparently – have treated her like shit and yet she's surely more empathic than an old grump like you. She annoys the hell out of me sometimes and she's likely the most pig-headed person I've ever met, but there are only a few people I have as much respect for as I do for her, if any.”  
He was slightly breathless by the time he finished his rant and it didn't help that Walter was _grinning._  
Ryan was about to reconsider his intention not to hurt an elderly man, when said man reached up and placed his hand on Ryan's shoulder.  
“And now go tell _her_ that!”  
Did he really …?  
Damn it.  
Ryan had always been proud of his ability to resist Gavin, and now an _old man_ had deliberately riled him up enough to spill … what?  
What had that even been?  
The blond mulled over his words again.  
“Damn you.”, he muttered.  
  
  
  
Back inside the house, Sydney was nowhere to be found.  
Walter had sent Ryan back inside, saying that he could handle the cow on his own, so the younger had figured it'd probably be a good idea to go over their plans of how to go on with his companion.  
The dishes were neatly set on their drying rack, so she was done with those.  
Going up the stairs, he froze and frowned when he heard muffled crying coming from down the hall, more precisely the room they had slept in.  
Oh no. Now if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was seeing someone cry.  
He carefully opened the door to the room, not wanting to startle Sydney, but also needing to make her feel better … somehow.  
  
Sydney noticed him immediately and hastily tried to wipe the tears off her face, before realizing that it was futile and Ryan had already heard her, anyway.  
She was curled up on one end of the window sill, hugging her knees to her chest.  
Her eyes were bloodshot, her face blotchy and all in all she just made for a pathetic sight.  
All Ryan wanted to do was hug her.  
“Do you … do you wanna be alone?”, he asked gently, fully prepared to leave if she didn't want him around, no matter how much it would pain him to leave her like that.  
That thought was discarded when Sydney shook her head with a sob and got to her feet, crossing the room to press herself against Ryan's chest.  
He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently and letting her cry.  
Even though he was confused, very much so, about what had caused this sudden breakdown, he couldn't ask while she was this upset.  
  
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when she eventually took a step back, sheepishly wiping her cheeks again.  
“I'm sorry ...”, she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.  
“Hey no, it's okay.”, he was quick to reply. “Just … what's wrong? Can I help?”  
Sydney walked away from him and laughed helplessly.  
“It's … everything! This whole fucking situation! Each day we go through some new crap, not knowing how we'll come out of it and I'm fucking sick of it! I'm sick of … not knowing. I almost wish we were back in West Wendover. It sucked there, but at least … at least I knew that in the morning I'd wake up at the same place!”  
She reached the opposite side of the room and slid down the wall.  
“I feel goddamn pregnant or something, the way that one second I'm happy because we can rest for a bit and the next I'm afraid I'll die again. I just … I wanna be home. But home might not even be there anymore. The only thing I have … The only thing I have is you. And I ...”  
The sentence was left unfinished and maybe it didn't need an end.  
  
Ryan crossed the room to sit on the floor next to Sydney and slung an arm around her shoulders, then pressed a chaste kiss to her temple.  
“I won't tell you it's okay, because it's not. What I will tell you, though, is that we've got this. Think about it – we're bad-ass. We wouldn't have made it here alone … at least, I know _I_ would've been fucked without you. Sometimes you're not even sure what to feel with everything that's happening and it's agitating, but we pick each other up all the time. We'll get there, I know that. Even if we have to kick each other's butts all the way to Austin.” A soft smile grazed his lips. “And hey, once all of this is over, I'm inviting you to a big bowl of ice cream. Deal?”  
Sydney looked up at him.  
“Do I get sprinkles?”  
“Whichever ones you want.”  
  
Suddenly Sydney's hand was cupping his jaw and ere he had a chance to question it, she pulled him down a bit and their lips met.  
The kiss was short, happening in one second, already a thing of the past in the next.  
Ryan's mind was racing, trying to come up with _something_ to say and it wasn't exactly his proudest moment when a “You really like sprinkles, huh?” tumbled from his mouth.   
She laughed.  
“Sprinkles are awesome!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotta say I'm rather proud of myself for dragging this out until chapter 19 and for over 40.000 words. Definitely a personal record!  
> Stay tuned for more from our love-hate turkeys.
> 
>  
> 
> x AT
> 
> (P.S.: Sydney's twisted views are entirely her own. I HATE sprinkles. The only thing I like on top of my ice cream are nuts.)


	20. Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy actual shitballs, you guys! I rediscovered some of my old fanfictions for another fandom and what even? I wrote roughly TENTHOUSAND words a chapter. My English back then was horrible, but still! I must have been another person back then, but I'll try to channel past-me in the future.

“You kids be careful out there.”, Walter said, leaning on the door of the Country Squire instead of his walking cane. “These earthquakes didn't only screw up the infrastructure – they mostly screwed up the people.”  
Sydney nodded, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other on the door frame, where the window was rolled down.  
“Thanks, Walter. I think we'll be fine.”  
That seemed to remind him of something. “Oh, for fuck's sake! I forgot somethin' I have for ya. Hang on a minute.”  
He limped back into the house, leaving Sydney and Ryan alone with the Ford's purring engine.  
“What do you think he has?”, the gent asked, gazing after the older man with an amused smile.  
The huge trunk already had their bags and some new supplies they had picked up in a Walmart downtown in it (Sydney was _still_ excited about having found dry shampoo), so she had no clue what the old man might think they were missing and shrugged.  
  
Before they had a chance to speculate about it, Walter was already coming back, a carton in one hand and something Sydney easily recognized as a gun box in the other.  
He shoved the former into her hands roughly.  
“Eggs.”, he grumbled. “Whole dozen of 'em. Should still be good for a week or so.”  
Sydney barely had time to hand the box to Ryan, the thanks she had been about to tell Walter cut off when he also handed her the wooden gun case.  
It wasn't a fancy one – definitely designed to protect the gun, not to look good – but it was still of good quality.  
“I reckon I can trust you with this more than I could trust that clown there.”, Walter declared with a small nod in Ryan's direction and then motioned at the box. “C'mon, pop her open.”  
Two clicks later Sydney had undone the latches on the case and was looking at a SIG Sauer P228.  
Designated as the M11, she knew the small semi-automatic pistol _had_ been an Army service pistol (in fact she had had one herself), but to be truthful, she had no clue if it was still in active use.  
If Germans knew one thing, it was how to make good pistols. While she wasn't the biggest fan of the M11, it definitely did its job well.  
  
“You think we're gonna need it?”, she asked the old man, raising an eyebrow.  
He grunted. “Better to be safe than sorry. 's a good gun, trusty. Take it. If it comes in handy – good. If it doesn't – even better. I put a good amount of ammo in, too. Hope it's gonna be enough. … well, actually, I hope it's too much, ya know?”  
She nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Walter. We'll be off then. I'd tell you to take care, but I think you and Miss Ellie will be just fine.”  
The Mastiff was lying at her owner's feet, waiting for where to follow him next.  
Walter gave the dog's head a rough pat.  
“Oh yeah, we'll be okay. I think you kids got a lot more care to take. Feel free to come visit again when all this shit is over, though. And you tomfool-” He pointed at Ryan. “You better have listened to what I said the next time I see ya.”  
That and a wave was all they got before he returned to his house, his dog hot on his heels.  
  
Sydney put the car into first, heading downtown to eventually get out of the city.  
“So what was that all about?”, she inquired, cruelly crushing any hope Ryan had had of her overhearing it.  
Intelligent as ever, he only came up with a stuttered “Uh … I have no idea.”.  
She didn't buy it, he could tell.  
  
For some reason this last kiss had him thinking a lot more than their first one, in the car.  
They had both come out of the blue and had been very short, but the second definitely hadn't qualified as only a peck anymore.  
Even for only that short amount of time, there _had_ been that pleasant tingle going up his spine.  
He sighed deeply.  
He knew they were supposed to talk about this like adults, figure things out and all that, but did they really need more to figure out alongside the world going to shit?  
While he was still debating whether or what to say, Sydney took the decision from him.  
  
“So that kiss yesterday was a thing.”  
Now what was he supposed to reply to that?  
Yes, it had been. And it had been somehow on his mind ever since.  
Sydney shrugged. To him, to herself, to the world … he didn't know.  
“I don't have an excuse for it”, she explained,”and I don't really want one.” She was focused on the road, making it seem like she was talking to the steering wheel, not him. “I like you. And not the stereotype-y way the damsel in distress should fall for the white knight who got her out from under a collapsed building. I know this is not the time nor the setting for feelings like that, but they're there and I can't change it.”  
  
  
The workings of Sydney's mind were a battle field by then.  
No part of her could believe that she had just said this out loud, to Ryan at that.  
She had made herself this vulnerable a couple of times before in her life and it had never ended well. What the hell had made her do it again?  
When she risked a quick side-glance at him, she knew.  
Blue.  
His eyes were so goddamn blue, even in the the shadows of the early morning, and it struck a memory.  
  
_The crystal clear ocean back when she spent summers in the Tuscany with her grandpa, her aunt's cooking apron, the fluffy blanket Toby wrapped her up in whenever she wasn't feeling well ..._  
  
Blue had always been her color of safeness, her color of love, her color of home.  
And Ryan was all that.  
He was the only thing making any sense here and that was why she was attached. And she didn't mind.  
She loved it.  
And through the blue, lining up neatly with the rest of it, Ryan said, “I like you too. More than I should. But I do.”  
  
Sydney slowly pushed the brake, the Ford gradually slowing.  
Even once the car had come to a complete stop, she was still staring at her fingers around the steering wheel.  
Now where had this come from? What was she-  
Abruptly she was pulled across the front seat with gentle force, a hand that was absurdly large in comparison to hers wrapped around each of her wrists, and she was suddenly closer to Ryan than she could remember ever being, even closer than in the back of that damn semi.  
  
Had that really been only a little over two weeks ago?  
Fussing over whether it was okay to share such a small bed, fussing over whether it was okay to allow him that close …  
  
It took a second and then all of it didn't matter anymore, because now Ryan was kissing her, _actually_ kissing her, and _damn_ , he was good at it.  
They were both shaking with pent-up _something_ and it felt electric, like something that had been meant to happen a lot earlier but hadn't.  
  
While the way Ryan was kissing her held no signs of how nervous he was, his hands just barely touching her waist sure did.  
He was giving her the possibility to pull back at any time, she realized, and even though she appreciated this greatly, _God_ , she didn't want to.  
Honestly, she would have let the kiss go on forever (after all they had been given noses to breathe, right?) or at least until the next earthquake would have forced them apart, but Ryan soon ended it with a last peck to her lips.  
  
Sydney didn't know when she had closed her eyes … and she was probably supposed to open them again now, huh?  
Gaze at him lovingly, all that stuff.  
Truth be told, the last time she had kissed a man, the guy had been trying to get her into his bed and she had still been stupid enough to let him succeed.  
There hadn't been any loving there Sydney wondered if there had ever been any.  
Whenever she had been with a guy, it had been fast and dirty and she hadn't really known what to do about it.  
She had just supposed that those white knights only existed in movies and novels – after all she had never met one – and if she had to be honest, she still thought so.  
Her little-girl-bubble-dreams had been popped the first time her father had dragged her to his office to hit her for speaking without being spoken to first at dinner.  
  
Frankly, she didn't care about white knights that much.  
They surely just complained whenever they got their armor dirty.  
But their damsels in distress had always looked happier than her; without a care now that their knight was there to protect them, their happy end within their grasp.  
Her own happy end had never even been a possibility to her.  
  
She should have died from one too many blows from her father to vital regions of her body, bleeding out in her room.  
She should have died in the Army, a stupid girl going to another country to shoot guns to the call of war.  
She should have died during that first earthquake or afterwards, under the building – after all there had been dozens of ways to.  
  
And she hadn't.  
  
While she believed that there was a reason for it, she'd like to come across it one day or other.  
Yeah, she stubbornly got back on the proverbial horse every time she fell, just like you were told to do, but she'd like to start chasing cars sometime, even if they were too fast for her.  
  
Now Ryan wasn't a knight in white armor.  
And Sydney found that it was just fine – she didn't want one.  
  
Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into his … for about a second, before both of them burst out laughing.  
It was heartfelt laughter - not awkward or forced, but genuine amusement.  
“Now that went from 0 to 100 real fast!”, Sydney quipped, to which Ryan replied: “Despite the fact that you _slowed_ the car down.”  
Sydney's face fell.  
“You damn dork!”, she giggled and lashed out in his general direction. “We kiss and all you think of is making lame jokes?”  
The blond grinned smugly.  
“Well, I guess I'm gonna have to redeem myself now. Can't leave _that_ impression.”  
And with that he pulled her in for another kiss.  
  
  
  
They left Salt Lake City southbound, passing the cities of Orem, Provo and Springville.  
As they didn't come by any jerrycans at any gas stations along the way, Sydney decided just go keep driving until the Country Squire would run out, which, as the fuel gauge told her, was going to happen in the near future.  
She liked the oversized car and would have loved to stick with it for a while, but that was entirely dependent on whether or not they'd find more fuel wherever they'd end up.  
  
The mood between them was impassioned and Sydney felt her skin crawl with hormones.  
It had been a while since she had truly taken a liking to a guy last and while these first gentle wisps of romance very nice and exciting, she couldn't quite smother her instinct's voice and it kept rambling about how this would only get them in danger.  
She found herself reluctantly agreeing.  
Rose-tinted glasses, after all, impaired your sight and if you were attached, you had more weight to pull you down.  
Still she couldn't really bring herself to care fully – much to her instinct's dismay.  
But whenever she looked at Ryan and he smiled back, she felt like _she deserved this_.  
She deserved to have a place of certainty and comfort in this fucked up situation and that's what Ryan was.  
  
Once they reached a city called Price – it had to be mid afternoon – the Ford was only running on fumes.  
They didn't have any luck with the three gas stations they found, however Sydney discovered a clear hose in one of the shops.  
“Jackpot!”, she exclaimed when she met back up with Ryan outside, presenting the plastic tube.  
“Don't tell me you wanna siphon gas like a petty criminal.”, he snickered, raising an eyebrow.  
“If you got another old car we can hot-wire, then give it here, Haywood. If not, then be good and get our car next to that Renault over there.”  
From the couple of cars around, that one seemed like the easiest bet to Sydney, as she knew it to be a model with the fuel cap cover release located inside the car – no keys needed.  
She made short work of the driver's door window and released the cover, then screwed off the fuel cap, just when Ryan pulled up the Ford next to the Renault.  
“Ry, be a good boy and hand me a bottle of water.”, Sydney requested while opening the Country Squire's tank as well. “This is gonna suck.”  
The blond, who had already been heading to the trunk to comply, stopped dead in his tracks.  
Sydney groaned.  
“That joke can go in two directions and you better swallow both of them or I'm gonna slap you.”  
Ryan chuckled but did as he was told.  
  
Inserting the tube into the Renault's tank took Sydney back to the past.  
She had done this before – several times, actually, as she told her companion – but back then she had been young, too young, and eager to be a rebel.  
Yeah, she had emptied the cars of her father's associates, prying open the cap covers where she needed to and in one case even stupidly using a cherry bomb, which had set off the alarms of most of the cars in the street.  
As the fuel had been useless to her, she had poured it out on the street – like an asshole, she now had to admit.  
Pure spite had driven her to do it time after time and while she had never been an overly spiteful person, it _had_ been satisfying to watch those walking Armani suits try to start their Lexuses and Cadillacs in vain and then hear her father complain about those “abhorrent small-time crooks”.  
“I stopped doing it once he noticed my dress smelling like gas, though.”, she concluded, then brought the end of the tube to her lips to suck on it.  
  
And this also wasn't new:  
No matter how quickly she pulled off, she had to spit out fuel every time.  
Once the other end of the tube was inside the Ford's tank, she gladly took the water bottle from Ryan's outstretched hand to rinse out her mouth, gagging at the toxic taste on her tongue.  
It had been way more thrilling back when what was waiting for her afterwards had been a bunch of fuming men in suits instead of some more hours of going down America's interstates.  
“Well, not kissing you again until your next encounter with a toothbrush.”, Ryan commented.  
  
Sydney slapped him harder than necessary in an attempt to hide the blush the promise of an “again” brought to her cheeks. 

 


	21. God's gonna cut you down

The fuel Sydney had managed to get from the Renault – barely more than a handful of gallons – got them some miles into Colorado.  
It was starting to get dark outside when they reached the city of Cortez and neither of them really were keen on looking for more gas without being able to see all that much, so they had decided to call it a day.  
From what they could tell, the earthquakes had struck Colorado, too. While most houses in Cortez still appeared to be structurally sound (at least in the shadows of sundown), sizable cracks littered the pavement, one wide enough for the Ford's tire to almost get stuck.  
Cortez was an average town with flat houses and trimmed yards; nothing stood out, so Sydney and Ryan chose the house they'd spend the night in at random.  
An intact roof had to mean no bodies, right?  
  
Right. Thankfully.  
Once they were in, Sydney could immediately tell this was a single man's house.  
Clutter where there was supposed to be a coat rack in the hallway, dead plants (which surely had been dead _before_ the apocalypse), some dirty dishes in the kitchen, a single razor and a single towel in the bathroom.   
The living room housed an Xbox that both of them eyed longingly, but without power it was just as much of a dust catcher as the pictures of – probably – Mommy on a side table.  
The single bed upstairs looked clean enough, and for once she was more than fine with having to share a rather small sleeping space with Ryan, yet Sydney was relieved to find some washed-looking sheets to change.  
Even when she found the box of tissues on the beside table, she couldn't bring herself to go back out to pick another house.  
This would have to do. They were planning on being back on their way with the first rays of dawn, anyway.  


Dinner unfortunately was a must – even after a rather uneventful day and despite the fact that Sydney would have loved to go straight to sleep – so they started up a fire (in Walter-fashion in the sink) and cooked up something quick, eating even faster.  
  
Sleeping in the same bad went without saying now and Sydney couldn't help but smile when she felt the comfort and safety set in that slipping under the sheets next to Ryan brought.  
His arm was around her at an instant and once she had rested her cheek on his chest, Sydney had to admit that she could get used to this.  
It was nice.  
Now, in the innocent solitude of the room, she could almost pretend this was normal.  
In here there were no earthquakes, no abysses, no bodies.  
(Just the fucking tub of vaseline she'd only now noticed under the bedside table. Ew.)  
In here there was just Ryan.  
  
She looked up at him.  
His eyes were closed, but he definitely wasn't sleeping, maybe just enjoying the silence as much as she did.  
Following a sudden urge, she pressed a kiss to his jaw and smiled when his beard tickled her lips.  
Oh yeah, she'd definitely done good in advising him to not shave it off.  
  
There was no question in her kiss, no prompt, just a statement.  
And she'd stand by it.  
In the past, she'd been prone to eventually regretting them, even taking them back or wishing she'd done so.  
But here, in this world, where it seemed to be just them (and now Walter), she decided that no matter what the consequences where, she'd accept them.  
In the best case scenario, there _was_ still a life after this, and for her it resided in New York while Ryan's was in Austin, but right now it couldn't have been further away.  
  
Ryan peeked an eye open to look at her. “What are you up to down there?”  
“Just enjoying the view.”, she gave back, grinning.  
The blond snorted.  
“Oh yeah, bet it's a very flattering angle.”  
“It is!”, Sydney cried, almost sounding offended. “You could be a model!”  
It had been meant as a joke, just some side remark she hadn't put too much thought into, but when Ryan remained silent, she sprung up to sit on her knees.  
“Duuude! Tell me I've _not_ kissed a model without internet around to tweet about it!”  
The jerk just snickered, both of his eyes now closed again.  
“Well, I _used_ to model, but that was way back when I was still young and pretty.”  
“Are you kidding me?” Sydney slapped his chest. “You're still pretty!”  
“Hmm …”, Ryan mused. “I _do_ get told I look like a Golden God on occasion.”  
  
Ah, that's where it was at.  
A big ego, hidden under layers and layers of pure concentrated dork.  
She knew how to tickle those – Toby had the latest model.  
  
“Granny's really proud of you then, huh? Calls you her little Golden God.”  
As soon as she had uttered these words, her world got flipped when Ryan suddenly jolted up, grabbed her hips and pressed her into the mattress, straddling her thighs.  
He pinned her wrists on each side of her head and it only needed a little squirming for her to realize that this was a hold she couldn't break out of.  
Oh boy, she liked men displaying their strength in just the right moment; the manner playful, not with an intent to harm.  
“Is that how you talk to a God?”, he demanded to know, his voice considerably lowered.  
“I've always been a sinner.”, she purred back easily and watched in delight as his eyes darkened.  
  
Honestly, she had no idea where this had so suddenly come from, but she enjoyed it.  
There was no way he'd get to play the dominant role, though.  
With a sultry grin, she began to kiss his neck and soon enough the skin her lips touched was vibrating with Ryan's deep, content sigh.  
Just a little more and … Ha!  
  
He'd loosened his hold on Sydney's wrists just enough for her to slip free and flip them over.  
She smirked and used her knees to pin his arms to his sides.  
Technically, he still had all the strength to push her off, she knew, so the fact that he wasn't even trying had to mean this was having some kind of effect on him.  
  
Sydney was about to lean down and whisper something about it into his ear, when suddenly a distinct porn star moan sounded and it was decidedly not either of them.  
An embarrassed blush quickly made itself noticeable on Ryan's face, his eyes had a certain deer-in-the-headlights quality to them and Sydney could only guess that she didn't look much different.  
The sound had practically made them jump apart like kids getting caught while giving each other a leg-up to get to the cookie jar and when that movement triggered another moan, Sydney had an awful suspicion.  
Repeating a mantra of “Oh no”s, she crawled to the edge of the bed, making each step slower than the last in a futile hope of maybe finding a way out of this, until she was able to peak underneath.  
  
Once she had confirmed that they definitely had a very blonde, very inflatable sublessee stuffed between the carpet and the bed frame, Sydney dragged Ryan and their stuff across the dark yard to the neighboring house, making her companion vow to never mention the incident to “anyone, ever”. Going by the chuckle that laced Ryan's agreement, she knew she had to make sure to never leave him alone with Toby for too long.  
  
  
  
The next morning came and as soon as he became somewhat conscious, Ryan hoped for it to be lazy one.  
This queen-size bed was a lot nicer than the thing the bachelor's bedroom had housed, the sheets fluffy and warm, and maybe, if he didn't wake her, he could just cuddle up to Sydney for an hour or so and not worry about …  
Or not.  
Reaching out, he found the spot next to him still warm but vacant, forcing him to get up to look for the black-haired woman.  
  
He didn't have to go far – actually, he didn't even have to leave the bed – because Sydney was crouched in front of the window, peering outside.  
Tilted open, the window let in a lot of the crisp pre-winter air and Ryan involuntarily shivered when the cover slid off his shoulders as he sat up.  
  
In another world, Sydney would have made for a serene sight; her raven hair a stark contrast against the soft lights of the morning, her every muscle still.  
But he saw the tension in her limbs, the way she sat there like either predator or prey – something that had to run at any second.  
Something was wrong.  
  
“Sydney?”, he tried gently and she immediately hissed at him to be quiet.  
Just then did he notice Walter's gun lying next to her on the ground and that's when he knew that some serious shit had to be going on.  
Slowly he crawled out of bed, wincing at every creak the frame made under his weight and the way the noise made Sydney twitch, and joined her.  
Her dark eyes were trained on the street below them, seeming to scan the area methodically.  
“I was woken up by gun shots.”, she explained, almost not making any sound at all, but in the dead-quiet of the apocalypse it was like she had yelled at him. “Machine guns.”, she added when he was too stunned to answer. “I haven't seen anyone, but I've heard some engine noises too, like five minutes ago. Loud ones. Sounded like motorcycles.”  
“How the hell did I sleep through that?” Ryan wasn't sure if he was asking her or himself, rather.  
“I'll be damned if I know! We're lucky earthquakes wake you up.”  
  
The gent granted her that comment, being rather irritated at his unusual deep sleep himself, and instead directed his gaze outside, too.  
Everything looked pretty much the way it had the night before.  
Daylight didn't change a thing for this neighborhood, only revealing the bad shape of the flowers on the patio next door.  
Nothing here seemed to call on some – probably – lunatics to drive around shooting machine guns.  
  
“What do we do?”, he asked, surprised at how easy it was to trust in Sydney's Army training.  
Something about her radiated a sense of calmness that he knew he usually possessed too; made up of logical thinking and at least a hint of strategy, but this wasn't a video game.  
For every bullet he had taken as a pixel character, he hadn't felt a real one yet and if he could trust his instincts, then Sydney was the best hope for not changing that.  
The ex-soldier picked up the pistol on the ground, thumbing the barrel with just the lightest touch.  
Her expression was grim.  
“I say we get our stuff in the car and leave as quick and quiet as we can.”  
Ryan quirked an eyebrow. That wasn't really what he had expected.  
“And how? The car's barely got any fuel left. How far are we gonna get? A mile?”  
  
Suddenly their decision to not go for fuel immediately when they had arrived in Cortez seemed incredibly stupid and irresponsible.  
It felt like West Wendover all over again; a choice that had been simple the day before turning out to get them cornered the next morning.  
  
“At least we're gonna get away!”, Sydney reasoned. “These guys didn't exactly sound like fun.”  
While she had a point … “And what if you just heard them drive to the next city?”  
As their “voice of reason”, Ryan felt torn.  
There was no indication as to which plan was the right one here. They could both be right and they could both be terribly wrong.  
Usually, the worst result he could end up with was a 'Game Over' screen and man, Ryan had never thought that he would one day wish for his life to possess the convenience and lack of responsibility of a video game.  
“You decide.”, Sydney eventually said. “We could get fucked either way, but we're not staying here.”  
  
  
They loaded the car in a hurry, then Sydney slid behind the wheel.  
The wiring of the taken apart ignition sneered at her, as if it knew that each hot-wiring damaged it a little more and that _now_ would be just the grandest time for the Ford to receive it's last blow.  
As the car – oh thank God – started, she nervously checked all three mirrors before steering the station wagon down the street, trying to keep the rev of the old V8 engine as low as possible (which, several times, almost made her stall the car).  
  
This wasn't good.  
She was nervous, adrenaline-filled, and adrenaline never lead to very good decisions.  
It was supposed to trigger your fight or flight sense, yeah, and right now they were definitely fleeing, but whoever had come up with adrenaline hadn't taken into consideration how it made you more likely to run into traps like a scared toddler.  
She hated it.  
And she hated that she not only felt responsible for Ryan but was attached.  
_Which is why you don't do feelings,_ that unhelpful voice in the back of her head supplied. _All they do is fuck you up, put one more weight on your consciouscience._  
  
“We're gonna drive to a gas station and either find some gas there or break open a car's tank.”, she stated matter-of-factly. “I'm gonna get out. As soon as I do, you're going to get behind the wheel. If something happens while I'm not in the car, you gun it. All you have to do is twist these two wires and then-”  
“Forget it.”, Ryan interrupted her, his low voice piercing and sharp. “You're not gonna play the hero.”  
Sydney groaned in irritation. “I have a gun.”  
“And they have _machine guns_ , Sydney. I don't know what their deal is and who or what they're even after, but I'm certainly not going to drive off if we meet them.”  
She glared at him askance. Bastard. Of course she couldn't play the detached girl with a gun in front of him anymore.  
He'd seen through that farce long before she had become the girl who snuggled up to him at night.  
“I promised to get you to Austin.”, she begged, but had already given up. It was obvious that he wasn't going to follow her wishes and while that soft, gooey core of her wanted to feel all warm because of his insistence to stay with her, the whole rest of her wanted to smack him for, too, being attached at such an inconvenient time.  
“You also said that we're going to get through all this together.”, Ryan insisted and, after some thought, added a gentle “I still owe you ice cream, I think.”  
  
God. Fucking. Dammit.  
He had it.  
That innocent softness that kept getting to her, ever since Toby had first given her a taste.  
  
“That better be some kick-ass sundae you're getting me, Haywood.”

 


	22. Eternal

As soon as they reached the gas station, Ryan obediently got behind the wheel to be able to get away immediately if need be, but made a show of applying the parking brake to show that he absolutely wouldn't leave Sydney behind.  
  
The pistol weighed a ton tucked into her back pocket as she got out of the car.  
She didn't want to use it, yet she was fully aware that her trigger finger was controlled by her instinct, not her conscience.  
The whole process of killing potential threats was too embedded in her to simply be switched off.  
A shot to the thigh impaired enemies, but it still left them completely free to shoot you right back, which maybe would have been an option had she been on her own but definitely was out of question with another life in her responsibility.  
  
Except for two cars, the station was deserted. With no gas cans to be seen, Sydney had to get into one of the tanks quickly.  
The first one, a very new-looking Ford, she had no luck with, as the lock on the fuel filler flap apparently only reacted to one of those oh-so-advanced keyless keys, and the second one didn't look much better – until she saw the corresponding little gadget lying in front of the gas station's shop.  
Once the car was unlocked, the flap was too, and Sydney waved Ryan over to park their Ford next to it.  
Granted, they could have just switched cars, but honestly she preferred the old sturdy monster that the Country Squire was to this tiny Asian build and all the unnecessary tech that was stuffed into it and practically designed to break.  
God bless capitalism!  
  
Apparently the driver had already finished his visit to the gas station, Sydney noticed happily as there was seemingly no end to the yellowish fluid making its way from one car to the other.  
The mouthful of fuel she'd once more received in the process dulled her glee a little, yet she declined the bottle of water Ryan held out to her through the open window, wanting to keep one hand free for the gun, and just confined herself to not swallowing the residue on her tongue.  
  
Save the puttering of the Ford's engine, Cortez was eerily quiet again, Sydney thought, but then again it was _too_ quiet.  
She didn't hear any birds and if that wasn't a sign of danger, she didn't know what was.  
  
Just as she pulled the tube out and chucked it onto the Country Squire's backseat, a loud bang sounded in the distance and Sydney's apocalypse-conditioned mind already wanted to make her attribute it to another earthquake, when a very different alarm bell rang.  
She knew that sound. And it was man-made.  
  
“Scoot!”, she told Ryan a bit too harshly even for her own taste.  
This so wasn't good.  
She knew that extraordinary situations changed people, even drove some crazy, but now they were shooting guns and – apparently – throwing grenades or something like that?  
Now she didn't care about the engine's noises anymore.  
They needed to get far, far away from here.  
  
It wasn't long until they reached the edge of town. In fact they were just about to leave Cortez when they ran into a gruesome scene that made Sydney stop the car in horror.  
The street in front of them was littered with bodies; maybe five, maybe ten – Sydney didn't have it in her to count.  
Blood was splattered over the pavement and at least to her eye it was obvious that most of these people must have been struck by a grenade.  
She knew this sight.  
  
  
_She was much younger._  
 _Much more naïve._  
 _Not innocent, though._  
 _It was another time, another country, but the same blood, the same torn up limbs._  
 _Her ears were ringing, on the brink of shutting out all sound._  
 _Her body was aching with wounds of its own, but none were severe enough to matter, not now that they had been hurt, not now that Dan had been hurt._  
  
_The way through the sea of bodies seemed endless and every step of her heavy boots sounded like another grenade going off in the deathly silence of the desert._  
 _Next to her battered form, Sydney fell to her knees._  
 _There was no use in cataloguing her injuries, she knew; she'd been standing right next to the bomb._  
 _Any help would need hours to arrive._  
 _She reached out, wanted to take her hand … it wasn't there anymore._  
 _“Dan-”_  
 _“Don't.”, she cut her off, coughing up a mouthful of dark blood. “There's no time, Sydney. No- … you have to run.”_  
 _Even while dying, she was still the bemedalled leader and ever the caring friend._  
 _Sydney wanted to object, at least have her goodbye, but the woman on the ground shook her head ere she had the chance to get a word out._  
 _“I know, Syd. But there's no time. Run. That's an order, Private.”_  
  
_How was this fair?_  
 _Had they met another time, in another world, maybe there could have been more, maybe she would have been different, but here … here she was a friend, a good friend, but still her Sergeant, bleeding out in the sand._  
 _Sydney almost went to get up, the need to obey orders trained, but stopped mid-movement._  
  
_Danielle was that unobtrusive kind of Southern beauty; auburn, long hair that she always kept in a pony tail, dark eyes that were to die for and an explosion of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose._  
 _That was what Sydney committed to her memory as she leaned over the shorter woman, wanting to remember those little features instead of the blood that stained her superior's face._  
 _Her lips were soft, she added as she kissed the other, the chaps from the sun smoothed over by film of blood, making the skin sticky._  
 _The kiss seemed to last a thousand years and was still an eternity too short._  
 _Sydney tried to put everything into it; the things that could have been, the things that should have been, but all that remained in the end was her own despair._  
 _“Go.”, Dan whispered. She tried to smile, but it ended up being a painful grimace. “I'll be with you.”_  
  
  
It took a rough shaking of her shoulders for Sydney to snap out of it.  
Now it was Ryan in front of her.  
Sandy-brown, wavy, short hair instead of auburn strands, bright blue eyes instead of the deepest brown.  
And a baritone yelling at her instead of a dying soprano.  
“Sydney, we need to get out of here! _Now_!”  
“Wha-” Her eyes found the battle field in front of them once more. And what had been Danielle lying among them was now Ryan.  
She floored it.  
  
  
  
The question of whether Sydney was okay didn't even make it onto Ryan's tongue, because the way her sobs shook her frame and her hands clenched around the steering wheel spoke volumes.  
Sure, this had him far beyond distressed too – people killing people for … what even? - but he had the feeling that there was more going on here. After all, Sydney should be a little more used (if you could even get used to something like this) to this than him … or maybe that was exactly the problem?  
Despite all that they needed to keep going. There was no time for them to switch seats or even slow down; they needed to get out of here, so all Ryan could offer right now was rubbing her shoulder, mostly just feeling awkward and clumsy.  
“Just for a bit, okay?”, he asked. “Until we find somewhere we can hide.”  
Sydney nodded determinedly and made an obvious effort to fight off the tears clouding her vision and somewhat focus on the street.  
  
They were in a small town somewhere on the road to Albuquerque, maybe ten miles, maybe a hundred miles away, when Sydney parked the car in the driveway of a random house.  
No actual agreement to stop had been made between them and there was still a good amount of fuel left, but she just didn't _want_ to drive anymore.  
  
When she kicked the door in, Ryan winced.  
With each of their previous shelters she had tried every other method first before defaulting to this harsh way of breaking into someone's home.  
Now it seemed like she didn't even care anymore, as if she was turning into what they were running from, and with a shock Ryan realized: He was afraid.  
Afraid of her? He couldn't be. Sydney wouldn't hurt him; they'd fought through too much shit together during these past weeks for that.  
No, he was afraid of what she might do to _herself_.  
He noticed this right after she'd kicked in the door and marched back to the car with a limp that, judging by the severity of it, seemed to stem from a stabbing pain.  
She just ignored it. … or, no, she accepted it.  
It was all over her face; in Sydney's mind she deserved this pain - and that was what made him afraid.  
  
  
Once their supplies were all stowed away or … well, had been dragged into the kitchen, Sydney's feet carried her straight into the only room on the upper floor with windows that faced the street.  
_Take up your post!_ , that sadistic, sadistic voice in her head snickered as she settled on the window sill, Walter's pistol keeping watch right next to her.  
The noises coming from the stairs were making her skin itch and she had to remind herself over and over that each hesitant ( _hesitant but heavy, male, threat_ ) step was just Ryan, coming to check on her like the sweet, innocent Southern boy he was.  
She couldn't stop her hand from reaching for the gun and flicking the safety off.  
And she hated herself for it.  
  
Apparently it had been foolish to tell herself that she had stopped being prey a long time ago, of course it had.  
There was nothing that could be done about it, and not by Ryan, anyway.  
Some people were born predators and others were their prey.  
And there were scavengers; some who devoured the best pieces the lions left and others who picked up the miserable rest – just to get by.  
She'd always wanted to be one of them; to just live her life without getting into too much trouble, but that just wasn't her place, was it?  
  
The door opened and for a second her finger curled around the trigger.  
“Relax.”, Ryan said, the small movement apparently not lost on him. “It's me.”  
He frowned when the gun still didn't leave her hand, but drew closer to her anyway, step by step, believing that she wouldn't level it at him.  
It was a piece of work to keep his hand from trembling when he wrapped it around hers and aimed the gun at the ground, then slipped the weapon from her yielding fingers.  
Only when the safety was back on and he'd put the pistol down a few inches away from Sydney's feet – far away enough to be out of reach but still close enough to comfort her – was he able to take a deep breath.  
  
This time, he could tell, there was no talking it out – at least not yet.  
As much as he wanted to make her smile again with a stupid quip (or ice cream), it wasn't gonna work.  
A rumble from his stomach reminded him that they hadn't eaten all day.  
What next?  
With a sigh he jogged back downstairs.  
Some warm food was worth a shot, at least. It would lift their mood (somewhat) and help having neither of them keel over as they both (he was sure) felt like.  
The fact that canned spaghetti with meatballs was the most appealing choice he found in their duffel bags had Ryan grunt in resentment but it'd have to do.  
  
Back upstairs the sight of Sydney sent a stab through him.  
She was still perched on the window sill, tears that she didn't even seem to notice running down her cheeks.  
He just wanted for all of this to stop. If not for his sake, then for hers.  
But there was no way out; no light at the end of the tunnel.  
Would it stop once they got to Austin, New York, or after that?  
There was no solution, no logical way to find out, and it frustrated him.  
  
Ryan chose to sit opposite her, balanced his bowl on his thighs and then pushed Sydney's into her hands.  
“Eat.”, he said softly when her absent gaze met his.  
Because she didn't comply with his request, he pointedly picked up his fork and took a bite.  
The (surely) mostly artificial flavor and the funky textures wouldn't normally have been very pleasant to him at all, but he found that his body was grateful for any fuel at all and thus the food went down easily.  
Sydney followed his example a lot more reluctantly (and she went back to scanning the street as if she was on a watch), but at least she was eating and that's all he was asking for right now.  
  
“Thank you.”  
It was spoken so quietly that he almost missed it and Sydney hadn't taken her eyes off the sidewalk in front of the house, but he heard it.  
As their hands were occupied, he moved his leg so their ankles were touching.  
While it wasn't even skin contact, both of their pants being between them, it was enough to make her look at him.

 

Blue.  
Again.  
But if there was a single color Sydney would never get tired of seeing, it was this one.  
For the past hours the colors in her mind had been auburn and ebony and crimson.  
The blue washed them away, enveloped her and took away the phantom ache of wounds all over her body.  
  
Seemingly hours later their bowls were empty on the floor and Sydney climbed into Ryan's lap without any words, resting her body against his firm chest.  
She couldn't help it when she started sobbing anew, but for some reason ( _You know the reason, stupid girl.)_ it didn't make her feel like prey; like a hurt antelope out in the open savanna.  
Ryan's arms around her felt like a shelter.  
  
The guy deserved a medal, he really did.  
Sydney was completely certain that she had never felt this drained this many times in such a short period of time (she'd come close though) and still here was that stupid dork from Georgia, who once more was pouring some energy back into her simply by being there.  
  
She loved his guts.


	23. September

_The white lace gown looked like a mortuary dress on her and it might as well have been.  
Even since she had been promised, she had refused to eat more than a couple bites each day and it was definitely showing in how her cheek bones stood out on her face and how many times the seamstress had had to take in the dress during the weeks leading up to the wedding.  
The dress …  
The can of red paint she'd managed to hide in her closet was tempting her.  
If she ruined this godforsaken dress, maybe she could delay the ceremony by a few days.  
If he punished her for it in the only way he knew, it would take at least a week for the bruises to fade.  
That had to be the solution!  
And then she'd get out, run.  
Somewhere far away from here. Maybe to Toby.  
  
Anything to not walk down an aisle into hell in the morning.  
Anything to be free.  
  
The paint felt cool on her fingertips.  
She'd run her hands through it several times throughout the last days, contemplating …  
  
Just when she was about to touch her wet fingers to her chest, the sound of shattering glass made her curl up into a ball, awaiting a strike with a shard that would add another cut to the scars on her back.  
She couldn't turn around.  
Wouldn't.  
  
Then she heard a voice. One that didn't belong here.  
“Sydney ...”  
This wasn't right.  
“Sydney ...”  
This wasn't real.  
  
  
_ When she opened her eyes, it was to darkness.  
She was on a bed and the faded smell of canned spaghetti brought back the memories of the evening, all the way up to falling asleep in Ryan's-  
“Sydney, no … please ...”  
Ryan was lying next to her and while his face was hard to see in the sparse light in the room, she could hear how distressed he was.  
Another nightmare.  
How great.  
Well, at least they were in the same boat. The more, the fucking merrier.  
  
A whimper from next to her chased Sydney's bitterness away at an instant.  
Poor guy …  
She reached out for him, her hand connecting with his slightly damp forehead.  
Now having a general idea of where exactly he was, she scooted closer.  
She had no idea if this would work on him, only knew that Toby claimed it always did on her, but she put her arms around him in a light hold and murmured to him softly.  
None of it made much sense, but according to Dr Toby that didn't matter as long as the tone was soft, felt safe.  
Honestly, Sydney didn't know how she was pulling off “soft” and “safe” after seeing herself in that damn white dress once more, but after all those years the nightmare was getting stale.  
This, however, had been the first time that it hadn't been true to history and someone different than Toby had come bursting through the window.  
Ryan.  
  
It felt natural, natural enough to spark that little flicker of worry inside her for a few seconds, when she pressed a kiss to his forehead, then moments later to his lips, and the warm feeling in her gut when the tension palpably left his body was foreign but welcome.  
She was glad that this, for once, had worked, allowing Ryan to continue to rest, with his nightmare, hopefully, gone for good for the rest of the night.  
Hers, though, was lingering and probably wouldn't let her go back to sleep for some time.  
  
Alongside that, Sydney noticed with disgruntlement, her wakefulness had brought her instincts back into the scene and those called her back to the window overlooking the street.  
_Just to check_ , she told herself as she settled on the window sill.  
  
  
When Ryan woke her in the morning with a gentle hand stroking her cheek, Sydney felt betrayed by herself once again.  
Just to check, my ass! Get it together!  
“Hey.” Ryan smiled. “How'd you end up here again? Could've sworn I put you in bed last night.”  
She shrugged in an attempt to downplay her edge of paranoia.  
“Okay ...” Ryan sighed, at a loss with how to finally see her smile again. He missed that. “How about we go downstairs and put together something for breakfast? I'm starving!”  
“Sure.”  
Without waiting for anything else, Sydney left the room and trotted down the stairs.  
  
Somehow they silently agreed to not continue their journey that day.  
What they had seen mere hours before weighed on them and the responsibility Sydney felt on her shoulders made her want to be careful and suppressed the part of her asking how much longer she wanted to hide from a danger that was possibly long gone and unpredictable in its nature.  
While Ryan trusted that if Sydney made no intentions to leave, it probably wouldn't be safe to do so, staying in the same place made him itch with all the bad things.  
It didn't feel like a good strategy.  
  
Ryan wandered around the house restlessly, picking up something here, flipping open a book there, and he was slowly driving himself crazy.  
Sydney had returned to her post on the window sill upstairs right after breakfast and not made any attempt to interact with him.  
He'd wanted to respect that, give her some space, but it was killing him.  
He wanted to help, keep her from stewing in whatever was bothering her.  
  
Without a real game plan he marched upstairs and froze in the doorway of the bedroom.  
It was empty.  
There was a gentle tap to his shoulder and it didn't only make him jump but fall into a defensive stance, expecting basically anything but his companion to be standing there.  
“Hey.”, she greeted. He saw, briefly, that she'd wanted to make a comment on his probably amusing display, but thought the better of it or simply lost interest. “Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, Ry. I went looking for you, actually.”  
His pose crumbled, arms dropping to his sides.  
“What's wrong, Sydney?”  
  
It wasn't just a question anymore; it was a demand, really.  
Ryan was trying his best to be understanding, but it was hard.  
They were alone out here and the fact that she wasn't talking to him about this was tying a cement block to their legs.  
As much as it pained him to dig in obvious wounds, he had to.  
  
And he regretted it when Sydney started crying.  
It didn't even look ugly on her, as it did on some people, it just was a sight that tore at his heart.  
With a pained sigh he took her hand and led her into the room to sit on the bed.  
There was no use and he saw no benefit in trying to get her to stop, so he once more let her cry against his chest, swallowing his own tears for all the sorrow his feisty companion with the shaken soul had had to go through in not even three full decades of life.

“That … _massacre_ yesterday ...”, she suddenly started, sitting up straight to be able to look at him. “... it reminded me of losing someone who … was very special to me.” Sydney wiped at her puffy eyes. “I hadn't thought about her in too long and then it hit me all at once. I'm sorry.”

Ryan struggled for words for a moment.  
“Don't be, oh God. I am. That's gotta be hard.” He brought his hand up to her shoulder and started rubbing it. “... do you wanna talk about it? About her?”

 

Sydney knew her answer immediately, yet didn't talk straight away.  
Ryan deserved to know, if only because his blue eyes were the only thing that had been able to chase the image of mutilated bodies away, and Danielle deserved to be talked about.  
The last time had been during an Army Court hearing and it had been full of technical terms and passionless paperwork.  
  
“Her name was Danielle. She … was my Sergeant afield in Afghanistan. We immediately had sort of a special bond and, well, it was really the worst fucking timing and setting in the world for that.  
If we had met in civvies, oh man, I would have asked her out almost instantly.” Sydney chuckled. “She would have punched me for that, I'm sure. She was the asking-out-type, not the type to be asked out. But as it was, I was subject to her and she stuck to that, mostly. She'd sneak me into her billet every now and then, to talk about more normal things, and one time we stayed up so long that I got too tired to leave and refused to get up. Well, fortunately for me she was too tired to make me. She was mortified when we woke up spooning because she thought somebody might have seen.”  
Ryan laughed along with her, but he had to ask.  
“What happened?”  
When Sydney's fond smile faltered and she lowered her gaze, he wished he could take the question back.  
“She died in a bomb attack, along with almost the whole squad. Me and another Private only survived because Dan had sent us on a scout mission when it happened.”  
She closed her eyes when Ryan pulled her back against his chest.  
“Her mother wanted me to have her Purple Heart. That meant a lot to me, but I couldn't accept it. She insisted I at least take the case it came in, then. I keep the only other thing I still have of her in there; one of her hair ties. She always kept loads of them around and I've never been able to keep mine together, so she kept having to borrow me some. It's … basically the only proof I have that she ever existed.”  
“I'm so sorry, Sydney.” Ryan repeated. “I can't even imagine how horrible it must be to lose someone like that.”  
  
A beat of silence passed between the pair, until-  
“I seem to have a knack for finding the best people in the most shitty situations.”  
Ryan was touched, unsure how to respond to that.  
Nothing seemed adequate for being compared to a woman Sydney thought so highly of, a woman who she thought she might have been with in another life.  
When she added: “I'll look after you better, I promise.”, however, Ryan frowned.  
“Hey now! Sydney, it wasn't your fault.”  
She looked up at him, her eyes searching in his for something he couldn't name.  
“Is it not? I can't tell, honestly. I didn't do it, of course, but if I had been there, maybe I could have done something. I keep thinking that.”  
  
“If you'd been there, you probably would have died.”, he commented, without missing a beat.  
It hurt him, too much, when she winced at that harsh truth, but he couldn't say it any other way.  
The definition of fault depended so much on perspective that it was nonsense to twist and bend it around that much.  
He couldn't help but be egoistic here.  
If Sydney had been there, what could she possibly have done to stop a bomb attack?  
It's not that he doubted her abilities; hell, if she'd claim she could move mountains, he'd probably first ask to see someone prove her wrong to not believe it, but he was incredibly glad that he hadn't lost her all those years ago.  
After all he would have died in that earthquake, he told himself, if she hadn't been around.  
No part of him really believed that to be the reason he was feeling so selfish.

 

Sydney snorted, not quite believing what she heard.  
She should have known by now, really, that he'd pick the exact same words that Toby did, several years ago. Because of course he would.  
It fit. It fit in with all those little things that had happened over the last days, weeks, and this time she couldn't pretend to ignore it anymore.  
With one swift motion she'd swung her leg over Ryan's thighs, the sudden shift in weight pushing him backwards onto the mattress.  
The surprise in his face was obvious, that one eyebrow practically jumping towards his hairline, as she loomed over him, but it left when she brought their lips together.  
  
And this time she wasn't gonna settle for a peck.  
She'd fought battle after battle wit her inner demons; the voices that told her that he couldn't be different, the rusty wires that always attempted to tug her away from him.  
But he found his ways to shush them, with a nerdy remark or a goofy flub of words (also: ice cream), and his gazes, no matter if amused, damning, sad, fond or everything in between (and always blue), were sharp enough to snap the wires.  
  
The kiss felt rushed, Ryan noticed, as if she was afraid he was gonna go somewhere.  
A ridiculous thought in this very moment. A ridiculous thought for the foreseeable future.  
Any other time it would have been tentative, unassuming, when he brought his hands up to her waist, but now it was firm, meant to ground.  
  
When they parted, it was by barely an inch. Little enough for Ryan to have to cross his eyes in order to focus on her face.  
(Sydney was barely able to fight off the urge to kiss him again right then, just for that adorable sight.)  
“Now that was sudden, but … certainly welcome.”, Ryan chuckled.  
She didn't reply, instead brought one hand up to comb her fingers through his hair, scrutinizing him with something akin to fascination.  
“What _are_ you?”  
The question was whispered through a grin and it held so many more questions within itself.  
He wasn't anything she'd come by before, that was for sure, and he proved it once more when he pulled up his shoulders for a clueless shrug and quipped: “I'm Ryan!”  
The laughter which then shook her entire body came from the heart.  
Her elbows gave in and basically dumped her weight onto Ryan and he followed suit when she wrapped her arms around him, chuckling too.  
“That you are!”, she agreed and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.  
  
“Feeling better?”  
Ryan's voice cut through a few minutes of blissful silence.  
The realization that yes, she did, surprised Sydney pleasantly and she proclaimed it with a positive hum, as she was currently too busy enjoying their embrace to get together the sounds to speak.  
“Good. I wanna show you something then. Up.” His hand drifted down and tapped her thigh in order to emphasize his request.  
That was lost on Sydney though.  
“But you're comfy!”, she whined. “Show me from here!”  
“And you're heavy! I said up!”  
Instead of tapping her thigh again, this time he brought his hand a little higher and pinched her rear, causing Sydney to jump.  
“You didn't just nip my butt _and_ call me fat, did you?!  
Oh, that was wrath thundering in her eyes. And still Ryan couldn't resist poking it.  
“Might've. What are you gonna do about it, munchkin?”, he teased as he used her stun to wiggle out from underneath her.  
  
And well, in retrospect, this had probably been a step too far, as demonstrated by Sydney chasing him down the stairs, yelling profanities that would have made her fit right in the Achievement Hunter office.  
She cornered him in the back of the living room.  
If a predator was something 5 foot 6 or so tall (short!) and desperately trying to come across incensed, he'd definitely say she looked like one.  
To humor her, though, he played along, cowered down against the wall and held some brick-looking metal thing from the shelf next to him in front of his body as cover.  
“The hell is that?” Sydney hesitated, her predatory mask fell.  
Only at second glance did she recognize the object, just when Ryan pushed a button on the top.  
  
“ _Do you remember the_ _  
__21st night of September?_ _  
__Love was changing the minds of pretenders_ _  
w_ _hile chasing the clouds away.“  
  
_ Sydney groaned.  
“Really, Ryan? A radio?“  
He held the device up by its handle, his other hand presenting it like a salesman would.  
“Battery-powered!“  
She groaned again, rubbing the palm of her hand across her face in what was really only faux annoyance.  
“September, _really_?! That's what you wanted to show me?“  
That boyish smile, while it didn't have much work anyway, won her over. It'd be the death of her one day, she was sure.  
“This was the only CD I found without rap on it! Thought some dancing might cheer you up, y'know ...”  
“Dancing?”, Sydney echoed.  
Ryan held his hand out to her.  
  
When she grabbed it and pulled him to his feet, it was a gesture to hope, to moving on and making the most of things.  
When she let him coax her into an implied cha-cha, it was her personal step towards allowing happiness.  
And when they yelled out the chorus together, they had fun.  
Fun in the middle of the apocalypse.  
  
_“Ba de ya - say do you remember_  
 _Ba de ya - dancing in September_  
 _Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day.”_  
  
“Ry, it's fucking November!”  
“Shhh.”

 


End file.
